


You Told Me Fortunes In American Slang

by kopperblaze



Series: Fortunes [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oblivious Newt, Overprotective Theseus, Protective Original Percival Graves, Slow Burn, graves' life is hard, mentions of trauma, newt's creatures try to help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9123130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopperblaze/pseuds/kopperblaze
Summary: Fill forthisprompt on the Kink Meme:Newt's dislike to looking someone in the eye and his aversion to human touch (that is not part of his family) is the result of someone playing an ugly prank on him when he was little. It's also the main reason that Theseus Scamander is a huge momma bear concerning all matters related to Newt.After Graves is found and healed, he gets to know Newt a little better and falls in love. He quickly realises that Newt has been hurt in the past even without the constant messages from Theseus that hell is going to rain down on anyone in MACUSA even looking the wrong way at Newt.I want to see Percival slowly gaining Newt's trust, then becoming part of his family and after months of careful wooing finally having his personal happy end.Bonus: Newt has been in love with Graves for years hearing tales from his brother. The incident with Grindelwald was a huge blow to his ego until he realised that it wasn't Graves. Still he's too shy to make any first move towards the real Graves that is more than friendship.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Because I just can't resist the call of HURT/comfort. 
> 
> This is only the prologue, the next chapter will be longer! OP if you're reading this, I hope you'll like it. 
> 
> Any comments and kudos are hugely appreciated <3 
> 
> (Also, not betaed, please forgive any mistakes)

* * *

 

For as long as he can remember Newton Scamander has been making up stories about heroic knights and dragons. Unlike most other boys he isn’t necessarily the knight in those stories, nor are the dragons evil. If pressed Newt would admit to seeing himself in the role of the princess, though very obviously in his stories it’s a prince. He isn’t a girl, after all.

It isn’t until much later that Newt realises what implications his dreamed up adventures might have.

~

Newt’s brother Theseus is seven years older than him and knows everything there is to know about the world. He’s smart and unafraid and very loud. Newt thinks his brother would make a fantastic knight.

When Newt is ten Theseus finishes Hogwarts on top of his class and moves to America for three year, accepting an internship that’ll enable him to not just become an Auror but an internationally certified Auror. Newt has no idea what the difference is. All Newt knows is that he’ll be at Hogwarts all alone, his brother leaving just as he starts. It’s not a very comforting thought since Newt doesn’t do too well on his own. Not since…well.

But true to his word Theseus sends him an owl every week, telling him all about his adventures in New York, America. Sometimes he even includes pictures. Newt keeps all the letters and pictures and little trinkets safe in a wooden box under his bed. Sometimes, when he gets sad and lonely at night he takes it out and rereads all the letters and imagines being in New York with his brother.

Someone featuring heavily in Theseus’ letters is his new best friend, Percival Graves. Theseus writes about him in a way that makes Newt picture him as kind and brave and funny, and slowly the knights in his imaginary stories morph into a dark haired young man named Percival.

It isn’t until his third year, when Newt overhears some girls giggling and staring wistfully at a photograph of Artemis Lockhard that he realises something - he pays more attention to Percival than to his brother in the pictures, studying his slow, careful smile and the straight lines of his face. He has a crush. A crush on Percival Graves.

Newt spends a few days torn between being mortified that he feels like this and elated at the first flutters of attraction he’s ever felt in his life.

Eventually, when people in Newt’s year start giggling about each other and asking each other out to Madam Puddifoot’s on Hogesmeade weekends, he hides the pictures at the bottom of his trunk and tells himself that he’ll never look at them again.

He’s too old for imaginary crushes and knights don’t exist.

~

“Mr. Graves!”

Newt’s stomach lurches. That name…but surely? No, it can’t be.

Catching sight of Mr. Graves he has to admit that…it is likely. Newt hasn’t seen a picture of him in years, despite Theseus’ frequent tales, but the bone structure is the same. The hair styled a little differently, more grey around the edges, but still recognisable. What’s different is the smile - there’s a twist to it, a hard edge that wasn’t there before. The glint in the man’s eyes is cruel rather than mischievous and when he meets Newt’s gaze it feels like Newt’s been hit by lightning.

He’s nervous, it isn’t every day you meet your very first crush, but through the next few days Newt comes to the painful realisation that Mr. Graves is not a knight at all. Knights don’t sentence their princes to death.

Newt isn’t prepared for the stab of betrayal he feels at that. It’s ridiculous, he knows, he _knows_ he’s never met the real Mr. Graves. And yet…this man, this cold and hard man doesn’t bear resemblance to the Percival Graves his brother has been friends and brother-in-arms with for years. Newt can’t imagine his brother ever speaking, much less befriending, such an arrogant and cool person. He can’t imagine this Percival Graves getting so blindingly drunk with Newt’s brother that they woke up in Prague, wearing dresses and clutching pineapples (Newt’s parents didn’t think it was funny at all, not when they had to wire Theseus money for an express portkey back home) He can’t imagine this Percival Graves handing out his rations to children in the streets during the war when he was stationed with Theseus. Can’t imagine this man giving away his coat to a freezing witch.

All the glorious tales Theseus told seem nothing but lies now and the perfect little tales Newt spun as a child crumble into ash, coating his tongue in bitter dust.

~

When it is revealed that the man Newt met is an impostor, none other than Gellert Grindelwald, dark wizard extraordinaire, he’s not sure how to feel. Part of Newt is relieved, but another part is completely lost as he looks the real Percival Graves in the eyes once they find him. His eyes are much warmer than those of Grindelgraves (Tina burst out laughing the first time Newt calls him that, but he still thinks it’s most accurate. Grindelwald-posing-as-Graves is such a mouthful) even after months of capture and torture.

Despite his own injuries and the tremendous amount of pain he must be in his first questions are about his team, his family, the people of New York. His lips twist with every death he hears about and relax with every person accounted for as safe. He’s kind and he’s polite, asking Newt about Theseus’ wellbeing.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. Your brother told me a lot about you,” he says with the tiniest of smiles and Newt’s heart skips a beat.

He’s way too old to start believing in knights again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG thank you guys so much for all your lovely comments and all the kudos! It turns me into a ball of happiness and I'm over the moon people like this story so far. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!

Chapter One

Newt Scamander is not what Percival expected. Which isn’t a bad thing per se, just…surprising. Growing up with Theseus - technically they were adults when they met but Percival thinks, in retrospect, that they still had a lot of growing up to do then - Percival has heard a lot about Newt. He knows that Newt was top of his class in Care of Magical Creatures and bottom of his class in Arithmancy. He knows about the time Newt tried to run away during the summer holidays and board a ship to America. He knows that Newt came down with the dragonpox when he was fifteen, remembers the way Theseus’ laughter stopped until his brother was pronounced healthy again. He knows that Newt became a magizoologist and he knows that Theseus is an overbearing mother hen when it comes to his little brother. He also knows that Theseus is infinitely proud of him, telling anyone who will listen about Newt and how he’s writing a book. 

So yes, it is safe to say that Percival knows a lot about Newt Scamander by virtue of being around Theseus. He’s seen a picture here and there of a boy with a shy smile, but the adult was entirely created in his mind up to this point. To be honest, Percival always expected the younger Scamander to be a skinnier version of the older. That is to say, self-assured, loud and boisterous with no problem at all to speak his mind. 

Within a day of meeting Newt he finds that the younger Scamander boy is the polar opposite of his brother. 

When he caught a glimpse of red hair and the whispers of a British accent Percival had thought for a precious moment that all had been a bad dream, that he was terribly hungover in some shack, possibly clutching a pineapple. It would’ve been preferable to his current predicament, even though the pineapple incident earned him a stern talk from his father that left Percival shamefully subdued for weeks despite the fact that, at the time, he had considered himself well into manhood and immune to something so trivial as a dressing down from his father. 

Reality hits Percival quickly enough though, the pains in his body much more than the simple aftereffects of a night indulging in alcohol, the man talking to him too slender, too careful in his movements to be Theseus. 

Being freed from captivity involves a lot of medical checks and people asking him question after question. He’s exhausted and wired at the same time, doing his best to keep himself cantered and not let the bustle around him overwhelm him. It isn’t easy after months of silence and solitude and his attention keeps straying to Newt Scamander. Unlike Theseus he doesn’t command the attention of the room, happy to stay in the background and make himself as invisible as possible. He’s quick to offer his help but shy to speak his opinion. The only person he makes eye contact with, and then only for a few seconds, is Tina Goldstein. 

Eventually Percival is carted off to St. Abraham’s, despite his protest that all he needs is rest, for more extensive checks. He doesn’t see Newt again for several days. 

~

People tell him it’s too soon, but Percival has spent more than enough time with only his own thoughts for company, so three days later he’s back in office, sitting at his desk and taking a moment to appreciate how surreal it is. Nothing has changed. His office looks the same, except for the trinkets Grindelwald moved around and the mountain of paperwork he left for Percival. He’s spent so many hours sitting in this office, behind this desk, that it feels like he never left. It’s altogether disconcerting. 

There’s no use dwelling on it though and with a sigh Percival moves to tackle the mountain of paperwork. Ten minutes later and he can feel a headache coming on, massaging his temples. Paperwork isn’t something he missed. 

“Yes!” Percival calls way too quickly when there is a knock on his door. He clears his throat and pulls his shoulders back, trying to look composed and relaxed at the same time. 

“Mr. Graves, it’s good to have you back.” 

“Madam President,” Percival nods, leaning back in his chair. 

“How are you feeling, Percy?” Seraphina asks, formalities forgotten once the door closes behind her. 

“I’m…all right,” Percival shrugs. There’s a lingering ache in his bones, a soreness to his muscles. Scars that will fade but never disappear and nerves that still twitch every now and then. He has nightmares, but he isn’t one to dwell on it. Things will get better with time. 

Seraphina studies him before nodding, apparently having found what she’s been looking for. “Don’t overdo it, no long hours. I’m not above having you removed.” 

Percival huffs and rolls his eyes, knowing fully well that she’ll follow through on that threat. On one memorable occasion she had personally escorted him from the building. 

“Did you come here for chit-chat or is there another reason for your visit, Madam President?” 

Seraphina graces him with a glare before rolling her eyes and perching on the edge of his desk, handing over a scroll of parchment. 

“Do you have any idea why Theseus Scamander sent me a very….strongly worded letter and enclosed a second for you?” 

Percival raises an eyebrow, studying the parchment in his hands. News about the Grindelwald thing must’ve reached England by now. Considering Theseus natural protectiveness Percival thinks it’s a miracle that MACUSA hasn’t been flooded with howlers. 

“I assume it’s about his brother?” Percival asks while opening his own letter. 

“I see your keen deduction skills are still in place. I’m glad to know that you’ve truly earned your place in that chair.” 

Percival ignores Seraphina’s remark with the practiced ease a long friendship brings and merely raises an eyebrow at her. 

“It seems that in addition to writing me he’s been sending letters to select members of my staff,” Seraphina studies her nails, clearly enjoying drawing this out far longer than necessary. 

“Did he now? Who was fortunate enough to be in this elite group?” 

“Auror Goldstein, Auror Abernathy, Kingsley from International Relations, Edwards from Magical Disasters and Calamities, Vice President Thompsons and Rosanne.” 

“From the cafeteria?” 

“Yes,” Seraphina’s lips twitch in a way indicating that she’s not sure herself if she’s amused or annoyed. “Mr. Scamander apparently seeks to put together a team to keep the younger Mr. Scamander safe, out of trouble, and well fed. He forgets to eat occasionally, apparently.” 

“Of course.” Leave it to Theseus to cover all bases. It has been a while since Percival felt that unique mixture of amusement, annoyance, admiration and exasperation that only Theseus manages to invoke. 

“Do make sure Mr. Scamander stops harassing my staff, Percy, will you?” 

“Of course, Madam President.” 

Seraphina snorts and turns to leave, briefly turning around in the doorway. 

“It really is good to have you back.” 

Percival nods, not entirely able to hide his pleased smile. Once the door clicks closed he unrolls the parchment, squinting at Theseus’ familiar chicken scrawl. 

_Percy!_

_What the heck, mate? To think that in your old age you let a dark wizard kidnap you like some maiden. Disgraceful._

_I’m glad you’re all right. At least that’s what I’ve been told and what Newt’s been saying. Are you all right? Tell me what happened._

_You’ve met my little brother by now, at least he’s briefly mentioned you in his last letter before telling me in detail about setting Frank free and the adventures of the Niffler. Sneaky little bugger, that one. Watch out for your belongings._

_Anyway, you’ve met Newt. I know that he intends to stay in New York for a while longer. Apparently he has befriended, and is living with, the Goldstein sisters. My sources tell me that both of them work for MACUSA, so you know them. Are they of the decent sort? If not I would ask you to remove my brother from their company THIS INSTANT._

_You’re one of my oldest and dearest friends, Percy, so I’d ask you to look after Newt until I arrive in New York. I’m tied up at work right now, but knowing that you’re keeping an eye on Newt will make me worry less. I know I can trust you. ~~Also, our history is rich in blackmail material and I won’t hesitate to make use of it should you fail to do your job~~ _

_I owled a few other, carefully selected people to help you, but I don’t trust any of them. Seeing how Newt knows that you’re my friend he is more likely to trust you and listen to you. Enclosed you’ll find a list of things to watch out for._

_Eagerly awaiting your reply and a full update on my brother, your health and sanity and the Grindelwald case._

_Yours,  
Theseus. _

_PS: Please send back a copy of Miss Tina Goldstein’s personnel file._

That special Theseus feeling increases with every sentence Percival reads. At the same time he suddenly misses his friend. After the ordeal of the past few months Percival could do with a stiff drink and a proper conversation with Theseus, one of the few people never failing to make him laugh and forget his worries. 

Putting the letter aside he scans the second piece of parchment. 

_Instructions and useful information for the care of Newt Scamander_  
1) Make sure Newt eats and sleeps. He tends to forget about his basic needs.  
2) Newt doesn’t like crowds.  
3) Newt is very invested in the care of his beasts. This results in warped judgement when it comes to injuries sustained from aforementioned beasts. Check for health problems and injuries every other day.  
4) Newt’s perception of what constitutes a dangerous situation is not always accurate. Keep him from running into danger.  
5) Newt dislikes yellow food.  
6) The Niffler is a menace. Keep shiny trinkets safe on your person.  
7) Do not insult Pickett. 

Percival isn’t sure if he’s impressed or if he feels sorry for Newt. Theseus is worst mother hen he has ever encountered. But at least this gives him the perfect excuse to abandon his paperwork and go check on Newt before reporting back to Theseus about the well-being of his brother and the good character of the Goldstein sisters. 

~

Heading to Tina’s office Percival means to ask her about Newt’s whereabouts (and tell her not to worry about Theseus and whatever threats he’s made) but as it turns out he doesn’t need to look any further. Newt is sat in a corner of Tina’s office, suitcase balanced on his lap and furiously scribbling something down on a piece of parchment. 

Percival lingers for a second in the doorway, taking in the displeased little frown knitting Newt’s brows and the disgruntled curve of his lips. It…almost looks like’s pouting. Which, on a grown man, is in no way adorable. 

Knocking briefly on the doorframe (the day he became head of the department he rejoiced at no longer being subjected to the open-door policy) Percival steps into the room. Newt’s head snaps up and his eyes widen for the briefest second before he looks down, shoulders hunched. 

“M-Mister Graves. Tina’s just gone to get some coffee.” 

“I’ll just wait here for her then.” Percival pulls out one of the chairs so it faces Newt and sits down, not missing the way the man’s shoulders hunch just a tad more. 

“I received an owl from your brother.”

“Oh dear, you as well?” Newt fumbles with the quill in his hands, managing to splatter ink over the parchment and smear it over his right cheek. “Terribly sorry, Mister Graves. I’ll tell him not to bother you.” The tips of his ears turn a rather alarming shade of red.

Percival dismisses Newt’s fretting with a wave of his hand. “Not to worry.” It doesn’t seem to reassure Newt in the slightest, who’s now worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “Theseus and I exchange owls quite frequently. It’s only natural that he’d be interested in the Grindelwald case.” 

Newt nods tentatively, glancing up at Percival from under his fringe for a split second. If he were one of the trainee aurors Percival would’ve scoffed and berated him to look people in the eye. As it is, instead of annoyance Newt’s mannerisms make Percival worry. Maybe there is a reason for Theseus’ overprotectiveness, considering that in all things not Newt related his friend is laid back and not prone to dramatics. 

“Your brother tells me that you’re working with magical creatures?” 

That at last makes Newt sit up a little straighter, the hints of a smile playing around his lips. Percival has a sudden, inexplicable need to see that smile in full bloom. 

“Yes, yes I do. I’m working on a book, actually. Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them.” He fiddles with the quill, letting his fingers rasp over the feathers. 

“That sounds interesting. I have to admit that my knowledge of beasts is…very limited.” And if he’s honest, Percival hasn’t had any interest in learning about creatures - until now. Anything that gets Newt to open up a little more. 

“Most wizards don’t, actually,” Newt nods, rubbing the back of his neck. He licks his lips before glancing up at Percival again, then nods softly to himself like he’s decided something. 

“Would you like to see them?” 

And that’s how Percival ends up in a suitcase full of creatures, a demiguise clinging to his back and a billywig flying around his head and chirping excitedly. Percival can do nothing but look helplessly after the niffler, scuttling away with Percival’s pocketwatch in its pouch with Newt hot on his heels, shouting apologies over his shoulder.

All in all it’s one of the most enjoyable afternoons Percival’s had in a while. 

~

A knock echoes around the habitat followed by “Newt? We’re ready to leave.” 

Newt, having been in the middle of explaining to Percival what kind of food erumpets like, looks up guiltily. 

“Oh.” 

“I suppose it’s late.” Not that Percival would know without his pocket watch. The niffler is fast asleep in his nest though, so Percival supposes he can wait until tomorrow to retrieve his watch. 

“Yes, yes you’re quite right.” In an instant Newt is back to the shy young man he’d left behind when stepping foot inside the suitcase. He had no trouble talking at length about all the beasts the suitcase houses, answering Percival’s questions with confidence even if he still wouldn’t meet his eyes. Now his shoulders pull up again as if he’s trying to make himself smaller as they walk back to the hut. 

“Newt.” Percival reaches out and carefully closes his hand around Newt’s wrist, holding him back from ascending the ladder. “Thank you for showing me all of this. I really appreciate it.” 

Newt ducks his had and the tips of his ears turn red again, but he gives Percival a small smile. “Anytime.” 

Feeling inexplicably pleased with himself Percival follows Newt up the stairs, ignoring the way his knees and legs ache. Healing takes time. 

“Mister Graves!” Tina Goldstein jumps up from her chair, almost dropping her cup of coffee. It looks like she’s a soldier, standing to attention and Percival has to call on all his self-control to keep from grinning. 

“Miss Goldstein,” he nods, before turning to the blonde woman perched on the desk. “And Miss Goldstein.” 

“I…we didn’t…I mean,” Tina stutters and Percival thinks that seeing her speechless is rather amusing. Queenie Goldstein giggles and winks at him, reminding Percival that she’s a Legilimens. He’ll have to be more careful with his thoughts around her. 

“Oh don’t you worry, sweetie, your thoughts are safe with me,” Queenie smiles, which …is not reassuring at all. 

“I was just showing Mister Graves my beasts,” Newt mumbles.

“I can see that.” Queenie stands up and plucks a piece of hay from Percival’s hair before taking his arm. “I’m sure you boys are hungry. Please join us for dinner, Mister Graves.” 

She smiles sunnily up at him and Percival fleetingly recognises that there is no possible chance for him to decline, not with the way she briefly squeezes his arm before winking at him like she knows something he doesn’t. 

“Queenie! I’m sure Mister Graves has other engagements.” 

Percival looks from Tina’s fretful face to Newt, who’s holding his suitcase with a white-knuckled grasp, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. He did promise Theseus that he’d make sure Newt eats regularly. 

“Actually, Miss Goldstein, my evening is wide open,” he replies, giving Tina his most winning smile, the one that earns him bashful blushes from the ladies and wicked smirks from the blokes. Theseus has merciless teased him for the use of that smile for years. 

“Wonderful!” Queenie exclaims, leading him from the room before Tina can protest. 

~

Sneaking up the stairs to the Goldstein’s apartment Percival almost feels like he’s young again, laughing and slipping into places they weren’t supposed to be with Theseus. His elation lasts through the evening, the apartment cozy and welcoming and the food Queenie serves up the best Percival has eaten in ages. Even before Grindelwald he wasn’t much of a cook, grabbing a sandwich here and there or something from the cafeteria he’d eat while reading a report. 

Queenie easily fills the space with her cheerful babbling and even Tina relaxes after a while, smiling and revealing that she possesses a wicked sense of humour Percival appreciates. Newt remains quiet, though he smiles and adds to the conversation here and there, the set of his shoulders easing bit by bit. It’s clear that he feels comfortable here and Percival pushes down any and all flits of jealousy. Just because Newt is his best friend’s little brother doesn’t mean that Percival gets any claim to him. He’s just naturally inclined to feel protective of other people. That’s all. 

Eventually, when Newt starts yawning and Percival feels sleepy and warm from the food, he gets up to say his goodbyes. 

“Thank you for dinner. It was truly delicious.” Percival smiles as he puts his coat and scarf back on. 

“You’re very welcome, sweetie. Come by anytime.” Queenie hugs him goodbye, proving once more that she has very little qualms about personal space. Tina settles for a smile and a nod. 

“We’ll be glad to have you. And…if you need anything else. Please…don’t hesitate.” 

Percival offers his own nod in reply, not wanting to think about the implications of Tina’s statement. The less he thinks about Grindelwald the better. 

“Thank you, ladies. Newt. Goodnight.” 

Newt looks up and smiles, offering Percival a somewhat awkward wave. “Goodnight, Mister Graves. Please tell my brother I’m fine, he won’t believe it coming from me.” 

That startles a laugh from Percival and he nods before departing. 

It isn’t until he steps into his dark, cold house that the warm feeling in his belly disappears along with the smile on his lips. He felt normal today, distracted and able to relax in good company. 

But no matter what he does, every night when he returns to his home it all catches up with him. The quiet of the house rings in his ears and eventually the ringing turns to malicious laughter that not even the sound of the wireless can drown out. Grindelwald lurks in every corner, his whispered words and threats coming back to haunt Percival. 

With a sigh and a flick of his wand he turns on all the lights along with the wireless, before pouring himself a generous serving of whiskey. Settling down on the couch he relishes the liquid burning in his throat before trying to distract himself by attempting to remember the names of all the beasts Newt introduced him to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I'm completely blown away by all your lovely comments and I can't tell you just how happy and excited they make me! :D 
> 
> So here's another, rather short, chapter. Tomorrow it's back to work for me and my mum's having surgery, so I'm not sure how much time I'll have this week for writing. I'm hoping to have another chapter ready by the weekend though! :) 
> 
> Once again, thank you so very much and I apologise for the lack of Theseus in this chapter. He'll be back soon enough, I promise :D

Chapter Two

"And why did nobody look into it?" 

"Because nobody knew about it until fifteen minutes ago," Abernathy grits out, not even trying to hide his glare. 

"Then why wasn't I informed fifteeen minutes ago?! Did you stop for coffee and cake on the way?!" 

Abernathy's jaw works for a few seconds before he huffs. "You know, if you ever wonder why nobody noticed? That's why," he says and the words echo more in the room than Percival's yelling. "Now if you'll excuse me, sir, I have a case to look into." 

Percival stares as the door closes with force behind Abernathy, feeling like he got punched in the gut. He knows he's been awfully short-tempered lately, sleepless nights and the aftermath of Grindelwald wrecking havoc on his body and his life. It's a reason, if not an excuse. But what reason was there before? Has he really always been this terrible? 

Of course Percival has wondered why nobody realised that the most dangerous dark wizard of the century had taken over his body, but he's never asked. Maybe because he's been afraid of the answer. For all his skill and talent as an auror, he leaves a lot to be desired as a man. 

Running a hand through his hair, Percival allows himself a moment to rest his head in his hands and breath, attempting to force down the headache that's constantly thrumming beneath his temples these days. 

At first he'd thought that he was fine, able to shake the entire Grindelwald disaster off like other injuries he'd sustained during the course of his career. It wasn't like any other injury. The wounds on his body had healed, though sometimes he'd still involuntarily drop his wand or spill his coffee as his fingers spasmed. His mind though? Percival is starting to suspect that he'd been in shock at first and his mind hadn't caught up with the severity of what had happened. Now, as he's attempting to settle back into everyday life the hairline cracks and fractures in his mind are beginning to split open. And wouldn't it be ironic to survive his imprisonment only to lose his mind now? 

"This is ridiculous." The anger is back, simmering hot under his skin. Only this time it's directed at himself. Percival opens the topmoast button of his shirt, suddenly feeling too hot and like he can't draw enough air into his lungs. The walls are closing in on him. 

The legs of the chair scrape over the floor with a shrill sound before it topples over. Percival doesn't find it in himself to care as he grabs his coat and marches out of his office, not bothering to give an explanation to anyone. They all think he's a ghastly bastard already anyway. 

~

Newt has no trouble at all navigating the Sahara, or, say, the icy planes of Alaska. No trouble at all. But he keeps getting lost in the MACUSA building. The layout just makes no sense! 

Resigning himself that he'll have to ask somebody - again - which includes the act of singling out a person that's not hurrying past, looking terribly important. Newt isn't very fond of having resort to that, but there's nothing to it. He thinks he must've used one of the back entrances (and how many entrances does one building need?), having come from a different direction than usual. Normally when he steps into the building he has to go up the stairs and take a right. But if this entrance is on the other end he'll have to take a left. But what if it's not opposite the usual entrance but just a little to the side? 

A figure hurrying across the floor, dark coat billowing out behind, catches Newt's attention. Mr. Graves, no, Percival as he's asks Newt to call him, makes his way towards the door, not looking left or right. The crowd parts for him in a way that Newt's always been fascinated with. The same always happens for Theseus. 

Percival doesn't look very well though, his shoulders high and tense and the set of his jaw looking painful. He reminds Newt of a Shardui on the prowl, restless and agitated. Newt isn't a people person, not by any means, and he's still not used to having friends again (though Tina, Queenie and Jacob are nothing like Rodolphus and Arim, Newt still finds it difficult to trust. Even Percival, who pretty much comes with a glowing recommendation from Theseus). But Newt is a beasts person and he's usually good at handling them and utterly incapable of not helping. So before he's consciously thought about it he's set off, hurrying across the hall and catching up with Percival, coming to a skidding halt and nearly crashing into the man right before the door. 

"What the," Percival whirls around, his glare settling on Newt and hand jerking towards his wand. Newt does his best not to shrink back though he can't help drawing up his shoulders a little. 

"Newt." Percival's gaze softens and he runs a hand through his hair. It's falling out in strands of it's usual style today and Newt catches a glimpse of Percival's shirt, wrinkled beneath his vest, the top button undone. It's a deviation from Percival's usual appearence, all clean and straight lines, not a hair out of place. 

"Uhm…hello. So sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," Newt mumbles, his eyes settling on Percival's shoulder. 

"Don't worry. It seems I'm a little on edge today," Percival sighs and Newt briefly darts his eyes up to catch the self-deprecating smile on the man's face. He opens his mouth but realises with a dreadful lurch that he hadn't planned anything past approaching Percival. 

"I…am I keeping you from anything?" Newt finally manages. 

"No. I was just heading out for a walk. Would you care to join me?" 

Glancing up again Newt studies Percival's face for a moment, finding nothing that'd indicate that the offer was only made out of politness. 

Newt nods jerkily. "If…if you don't mind." 

"I know a place near Central Park that does a decent cup of tea." Percival holds the door open for Newt before stepping out onto the street after him. 

"Really?" Newt can't help but chuckle. "I've yet to find a decent cup of tea in New York." Although Queenie's efforts are coming close. 

"Oh come on," Percival huffs. "That place is Theseus approved, so it should be good enough for your delicate taste buds." 

"My brother's taste buds have been burnt and shrivelled to nothingness. He wouldn't know a good cup of tea. Personally, I'm blaming his time in New York for that." Newt doesn't know why, but something about Percival makes him babble. Probably just leftover awkwardness from his teenage years and the crush he had on (fictional) Percival then. 

He can't help being pleased though when Percival laughs and lightly slaps his shoulder. He never touches Newt unnecessarily, but he doesn't keep an overly large distance either, like all the others. 

They stroll leisurely through Central Park and gradually Percival seems to relax, the lines of his face softening in the afternoon sun. The soft light does nothing to hide the bags under his eyes though, nor the haunted look in them. 

When they sit down in a little hole-in-the-wall cafe, Percival looks like he's ready to fall asleep in his chair. Newt has had a chance to observe him in a lot of situations by now, from being rescued to dinner at the Goldsteins, interacting with his beasts and retaking his position at MACUSA seemingly effortlessly, keeping his department running smoothly. Newt is good at observing, has to be in his line of work, and he's observed Percival Graves a great deal from afar, comparing him to the Percival from his brother's tales. He's witnessed a spectrum of different sides and emotions, but one thing that's always there is a put-togetherness, like a barrier between Percival and the world. Now, as Newt looks at the man over the rim of his mug, he can see where that barrier is slipping, allowing him a glimpse beyond. Percival looks worn and so very tired. 

"May…may I ask you something? You don't have to answer, but if you do I'd ask you to be honest." 

Percival looks up and raises an eyebrow, before nodding. "Shoot." 

"How are you doing?" 

It's obvious that Percival wasn't expecting that question, his eyebrows first raising a little more before dropping. The lines of his mouth harden like he's grinding his teeth and for a second Newt is afraid that he's evoked the man's wrath. He's heard Tina complain about Director Graves shouting and making everyone in the department do overtime on numerous occassions now. But then Percival exhales, makeing an obvious effort to calm himself. 

"I'm…not very well, I suppose," he admits. For once he's the one avoiding Newt's gaze, looking out of the window instead. "I have trouble sleeping and…and my thoughts keep circling." 

"That's to be expected, I suppose. Have you…talked with somebody about it?" 

"I'm talking with you now, aren't I?" 

"No, I mean someome…qualified," Newt mumbles, looking down at his teacup, frantically thinking about a useful suggestion. He's good at healing beasts, at knowing what they need. Humans are infinitely more difficult. 

"No. The Mediwitches will just prescribe me potions and recommend a mind healer. I'm…I wouldn't be comfortable with that." 

Newt nods, thinking back to his parents wanting to take him to a mindhealer after the incident with Rodolphus and how he'd cried and crawled under his bed, terrified of having a stranger examine his mind. He'd found other ways to deal. 

"I…working with my creatures. It helps me. When I feel…anxious, I mean. Maybe…you'd like to come along and help me feed them tonight?" Manual labour always makes Newt feel better, more centred and calm. And Percival had seemed interested in the beasts before, so maybe it will help to stop his thoughts from spinning and circling. 

There's a beat of silence in which Newt starts to berate himself for making such a stupid suggestion in the first place. He can feel his face heating up. 

"I appreciate the offer, Newt. It's certainly worth a try." 

Newt quickly takes a sip of his tea, torn between embarassement and something…much warmer, spreading through his chest. 

"So, how's the tea?" Percival asks, not bothering to hide his smile at Newt's pleased hum. 

"You know, it's actually not too bad," Newt replies, managing a few seconds of eye contact and a smile of his own. 

~

Percival still isn't sure why he admitted that he wasn't at his best. But there was something about the downturn of Newt's lips, the earnest way in which he'd asked, yet not pressured Percival. His mother had always said that Percival needed to speak about his feelings more instead of bottling everything up, but so far he'd been perfectly fine coping by himself. Now though it feels like he's splitting at the seams, incapable of reigning in the darkness that has taken posession of his mind and soul. 

He's not sure how tending to Newt's beasts is going to make him feel better either, but it's a chance to escape from his house for a few hours longer and Percival will gladly take it. 

He manages not to scream at anyone for the rest of the afternoon and leaves his office almost on time, walking to the apartment of the Goldstein sisters rather than apparating. He tells himself it's because the fresh air will help clear his mind, rather than admitting that apparation makes his body ache for hours. 

"Mister Graves!" Queenie's smile is bright as ever as she opens the door and pulls him inside. "Newt is already in his suitcase, but he said not to hurry. Would you like some coffee? Cocoa?" She takes his coat and directs it to the coat rack with a flick of her wand. 

"Thank you, I'm quite all right for now." 

"Sure. On you go then, just down the hall the room on the right." Queenie smiles before disappearing into the living room, humming to herself. Percival takes a moment to compose himself before walking down the hall. The room is empty but Newt's suitcase sits open in the middle of the floor. Before he's got a chance to think too much about it Percival steps inside and down the ladder. 

The hut is empty and for a moment Percival is tempted to look and satisfy some of his curiousity. It feels too much of an invasion of privacy though, so he makes himself walk outside. 

"Newt?" Percival squints against the sun, taken aback once more by the sheer size of the world within the suitcase. 

"Over here!" 

Following the voice Percival finds Newt carrying stacks of hay over to the mooncalf enclosure. "I was about to wait for you but they started stealing my parchment so I thought I better get started with them. There's more hay over there," he says, nodding towards the back of the hut. 

"Right." Percival rolls the sleeves of his own shirt up. He hasn't done work like this in…well, probably never. But there's a first time for everything, right? 

~

Half an hour later Percival's shirt is sticking to him with sweat and his muscles ache from all the lifting and carrying he's done. At first it made his annoyance spark, especially since he's not used to following someone else's orders anymore. It's virtually impossible to yell at Newt though, so Percival thankfully kept his tongue in check. Gradually his annoyance had sipped away, his attention focused instead on the wiry muscles of Newt's arms and how they moved underneath his skin whenever he lifted something. While tending to his beasts Newt is carefree in a manner he doesn't seem to allow himself among people and it's…beautiful. Percival can't find another word for it. 

The work does him good as well and now that they're wrapping up, doing a final round through all habitats to check that the beasts are settled in for the night, Percival finds that his mind is blissfully blank and his body exhausted. He's looking forward to a hot bath and his bed. 

"Thank you for your help," Newt says after an unsuccessfull attempt of settling Pickett in with the rest of the bowtruckles for the night. "Would you…like a cup of tea? I guess it's too late for coffee." 

For a second Percival is torn, before deciding that he doesn't want to risk it. No matter how much he wants to spend more time with Newt. "Thank you, but I think I better get home and into bed while I'm still tired." 

"Oh, of course." 

Percival frowns and glances over at Newt. Is it his imagination or did Newt sound disappointed? 

They walk back to the hut in companionable silence, though Newt doesn't head for the ladder. 

"I still have some work to do so I'll stay down here." 

"Writing?" Percival asks, looking at the neat stack of parchment on the otherwise cluttered desk. 

"Yes. I just thought of an addition to the chapter about erumpets." 

"You know, if it isn't too personal I'd like to read what you've written so far." The creatures are far more intriguing than Percival had expected and maybe reading will prove to be a good distraction as well. 

Newt's ears are already a flaming shade of red again, but there's a smile on his lips so Percival thinks he hasn't messed up too badly. 

"If…you're interested." 

"I am. Maybe then I'll be a better help at feeding them." 

"You did fine!" Newt is quick to assure him. "It…was nice having somebody to help." 

"I'm glad. I really enjoyed it." Percival is almost tempted to take a step closer, but then he thinks that Newt most likely wouldn't appreciate it, and the moment is gone. Even though Newt moves with confidence in here, he still reminds Percival of a shy deer, ready to bolt at a moment's notice. He's not head of Magical Security for nothing and he's observed enough of the way Newt acts around people that he can't help but feel that something must've happened in Newt's past, that he must've gotten hurt in one way or another. Percival is determined to find out more about it. And if he's honest he wants to find out all there is to find out about Newt, who's so strange and different and commands Percival's attention like nobody has before. 

"Thank you and don't work for too long." He turns to ascend the stairs before remembering something and turning back around. "Oh and Newt?" 

Newt turns to him, face and hair bathed in the flickering light of the candles he's lit. 

"Please eat something before going to bed."

Newt huffs and Percival isn't sure if it's the shadows or if he's pouting. "You sound like my brother." 

"Just acting on his orders," Percival grins before turning and walking up the ladder. He thinks he hears Newt laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should also mentioned that this is not beta-ed, English isn't my mother tongue and I'm overly tired /o\ Please let me know if there are any obvious mistakes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS! Thank you so very much for all your lovely comments on the last chapter. Mum's surgery went well though she's in a lot of pain. And all in all this week hasn't been great, so all your nice words really were my silver lining :) 
> 
> So, here's the next chapter, in which both boys continue to be silly.
> 
> (As always, please excuse any mistakes)

After three weeks of careful observation Percival's mental file concerning Newt Scamander is rather extensive. He knows how Newt takes his tea (a splash of milk, to be added after, no sugar but a spoonful of honey on special occasions), has discovered that beneath the shy exterior Newt has a wicked sense of humour, and that if given the chance Newt can keep up a monologue about magical creatures for hours (which is very soothing. To Percival. And the occamys) He also knows that Newt has four ways of smiling he uses frequently (polite, embarrassed, self-deprecating and joyful, in order of occurrence) and that he likes books about King Arthur. 

Along the myriad of small things, Percival also notices that Newt is opening up more and more, but then, as if realising that he's left himself unguarded he withdraws again, looking like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Among Percival's case notes is also the realisation that he might, quite possibly, have taken a _liking_ to Newt (because he's a grown man and one of the most powerful wizards in America - therefore he doesn't have something so common as a "crush"). 

He's not entirely sure how to communicate this fact, and the consequent desire to enter into a courtship to Newt though. Or, Merlin protect his balls, Theseus. 

All things considered, Percival is screwed. 

~

Newt carefully balances a cup in each hand and uses his elbow to open the door, kicking it close behind him with a little more force than intended. 

Percival glances up from the parchment he's reading, scowl firmly in place. 

"I brought you coffee," Newt sets the cup down in front of Percival like an offering, before sitting down in the visitor's chair to sip his tea. 

Percival glances at the cup of coffee, then at Newt, and back again. Newt is proud to say that his ability to withstand the Graves' glare his grown exponentially in the past weeks. 

"Tina send you?" 

Newt considers denying it. Percival is an auror though and is going to see right through any lie Newt attempts. He's a horrible liar anyway. 

"Well…yes." For some reason the aurors have started to call on Newt when Percival is in a particularly bad mood. Apparently they think that since he's worked with dragons he's most suited to approach Percival on such days. Newt isn't entirely sure that it's an accurate comparison, but then again…sometimes Percival does behave a little bit like a Ridged Greyback. 

Apart from Newt nobody has any patience for Percival these days, which Newt thinks is a little unfair. Percival has plenty of reasons to be stressed. Besides, it's not like he's a Ridged Greyback all the time. More often than not he's a….kneazle. 

"That bad?" Percival sighs, hanging his head for a second before he leans back in his chair and sips his coffee. 

"Uh…Auror Greenfield wants to transfer, apparently." 

"Damnit." Pinching his nose Percival exhales a measured breath. "Please tell Queenie's secret friend to set aside some of those Niffler pastries tomorrow morning?" 

"Sure. You might want to include a chocolate erumpet for Auror Teller. And for Tina." 

"Yes, yes, sure," Percival waves his hand. "I'm starting to think they're just pissing me off because they know they'll get free pastries out of it." 

Newt finishes his tea and turns the paper cup in his hands. "I'm sure they wouldn't do that." 

"So I'm just a bad person." 

"That's not what I meant!" Newt frowns, looking up from his cup. "You're not a bad person. You're just having a bad…month." 

"Make that a bad year," Percival grumbles. 

"I'm sure next year is going to be better." 

That at last gets a laugh from Percival. "You're something else, Newt." 

Newt forces himself to keep from averting his eyes because Percival's smile is beautiful and his words flood Newt's chest with warmth. It's silly, this schoolboy crush, and entirely pointless. Newt's just always been a dreamer. 

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something." Percival is rubbing the back of his neck and staring down at his desk. If Newt didn't know better he'd think Percival is nervous. Which is ridiculous. Percival is many things, but not nervous. 

"I was thinking of going to the theater tonight. You know. To get out a little bit and all. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me?" 

It…isn't quite what Newt expected, though then again he has no idea what he did expect. He knows that Percival doesn't like spending time in his house and of course he doesn't want to tend to the beasts every night, so he's seeking other distractions. 

"I…sure." 

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Percival is quick to assure him, which causes Newt to frantically shake his head. Like he's going to miss the chance of spending the evening with Percival. It's just. Spending the evening with Percival. Alone. Outside of the comforts of his suitcase and the company of his creatures. It's a little daunting. And exciting. Maybe 

"I'd like to come." Because Newt better enjoys Percival's attention while he has it. He knows from experience that people grow bored of him quickly. He can only hope that Percival won't eventually start to hate him. 

~  
Standing in front of the mirror Percival pulls on his bowtie, tugging it a little more to the left, then to the right. It's ridiculous. He knows how to dress well and impress people. Even on a bad day he could easily pull whoever he wanted, if he had any interest. So why has he been fussing around for half an hour when chances are that Newt won't even notice the effort? Or maybe he will. But mostly likely not. Newt doesn't seem the type to care much for appearances. 

"Get a grip." He glares at his reflection for good measure before turning around and stomping downstairs to grab his coat and hat. Newt may not care for appearances, but he'll surely care about being stood up. Not to mention that leaving Newt to wait by himself in the middle of New York City would break at least five of Theseus' rules. 

Resisting the urge to check his reflection one more time Percival takes a deep breath before disapparating. 

~

"Darling, is that what you'll be wearing to the theater?" 

"Mh?" Newt looks up from Pickett, who is stubbornly clinging to his thumb, refusing to be left behind. "Yes?" 

Queenie purses her lips and Newt thinks that surely his suit doesn't deserve such a look of contempt. It's black and in reasonable good condition and the blood stain on his white dress shirt (one of the mooncalf babies had nipped him months ago when it had gotten overly excited) is hidden by the black vest. 

"No?" Newt amends. Queenie grabs his arm and pulls him up, dragging him into the bathroom. "I just think it could do with a little…improvement, you know? So you'll look nice for Mister Graves." 

"I'm sure Percival doesn't really care what I look like," Newt mumbles, obediently sitting down on the edge of the tub. Queenie laughs her tinkling laugh as she starts fussing with his hair, pulling a few leaves out of it. 

"Oh honey, Mister Graves cares a lot about the way you look. He's not invited you to the theater for nothing, you know?" 

"I'm sure he just wants company," Newt replies, trying not to squirm away. He likes Queenie, but she's touching him an awful lot and she's got her wand in her hand and is casting spells and it makes Newt panic. Just a little bit. 

"Right," Queenie giggles, making him stand up and turn around, humming in what Newt hopes is approval so he can escape this. "He wants _your_ company, sweetie. Have a think about that." She smiles and leans in to kiss his cheek. "Now, you have a wonderful evening, all right?" 

Holding out her hand Pickett easily abandons Newt to snuggle up to Queenie's thumb instead. The traitor. Queenie coos and then she's gone, leaving Newt to blink in confusion at his reflection in the mirror (his hair really does look better this way, tamed and shiny and leaf-free) and try to calm his racing heart.  
~ 

Newt has always been aware of the fact that Percival is a very handsome man. Yet when he sees him emerging from an alley and moving through the crowd towards Newt, Newt can't stifle a soft sound of…confusion? Adoration? _De-desire?_ He's turning red just thinking that. 

It's true though. Because apparently, as unbelievable as Newt finds it, there is a way for Percival to be even more attractive. Maybe it's the hat or the bowtie or the ridiculously expensive looking black coat that emphasis the lines of Percival's body. Or maybe just the fact that he looks less uptight than at work, something about the way he carries himself. 

For a second Newt is tempted to blurt out "You look dashing" but manages to turn it into a much more appropriate "Good evening." 

"Evening." Percival, honest to Merlin, tips his hat and grins and Newt has to hold back another weird noise. Why does he have to be so awkward? He glares at his shoes in a moment of self-hatred before taking a deep breath. He's being ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. This is an evening out as friends because going to the theater is what friends do. There's no point in kidding himself into Percival ever having feelings for him, wanting someone like him when he can have someone more like him. Handsome and kind and perfect and normal. 

"I didn't leave you waiting for too long, did I?" 

"No, I arrived only a minute ago." 

"Good. Good. Shall we?" Percival nods ahead and they start walking, Newt trying to keep up and not stumble over his own feet gracelessly. He always feels a little bit like a newborn erumpet next to Percival who always moves with elegance. 

The theater is only a few minutes away and Percival takes Newt's coat to the cloakroom for him before they are shown to their seats. They're in a box on the first floor, looking straight ahead at the stage. They must've cost a fortune.

"I haven't even paid you for the ticket yet! Oh, you should've said, I'm so sorry." 

Quite a few different expressions pass over Percival's face in rapid succession: first his eyes widen a little bit, then he frowns and then his face settles into something carefully neutral. 

"I invited you to come along, Newt. You don't have to pay for anything tonight." 

"Very…very well," Newt presses his slightly sweaty palms against his thighs. "I'll…have to invite you to something in return then." 

"I won't say no to that," Percival smiles and some of the tension drains from his face again. Newt hasn't entirely ruined the evening before it started, so that's something. 

It's strange, this need to not disappoint Percival. Newt is used to disappointing people. And Newt has never trusted anyone but his family since he was seven years old. Allowing Percival behind his walls, bit by bit, is terrifying. 

It looks like Percival wants to add something, but just then the lights dim and the chatter of the audience dwindles off into silence. 

The play is enjoyable, or at least Newt thinks so. People around them are laughing, but Newt's own laugh is always a second too late. He can't help that Percival's presence next to him is distracting. The man is radiating heat and Newt is prone to being chilly. 

Licking his suddenly dry lips Newt shifts in his seat, briefly clenching his fists. Should he do it? Should he move closer? Maybe Queenie did have a point.

He's barely thought it before he reels back, mentally and a physically. It's a stupid, stupid idea and Percival is going to laugh at him. Or something worse. 

Newt can barely focus on the play anymore as his palms grow a little sweaty, a taunting voice sing-songing in his mind. 

_Stupid little mudblood_

Newt exhales with a soft shudder. He knows it's not healthy, has heard his parents say it often enough, and yet he can't help it. He still thinks getting close to people is dangerous and will hurt eventually. There's no denying that your childhood shapes you. So far Newt never had a reason to question the way he lived because it was comfortable, him and his beasts, forever travelling. Avoidance at it's best, yes, but avoidance isn't inherently bad. What's bad is contemplating to throw away all the safety nets he's built in the whim of a moment because the man next to him makes him feel like's flying on a hippogriff. 

Having mentally berated himself enough Newt tries to get comfortable in his chair again, keeping his distance. 

~

"Did you enjoy it?" Percival asks, helping Newt into his coat before putting on his own. 

"I did! It was very…enjoyable. And I…liked the costumes," Newt smiles and Percival nods along with a smile of his own. Truth be told, he's got no idea what the damn play was about. His mind kept wandering, leaving him entirely incapable of focusing on a single scene as it drifted to the topic of Newt, his possible, definite feelings for Newt, before taking a turn for the self-deprecating, lamenting the fact that if Newt is everything good in the world then Percival is everything tainted. He's a moody arsehole on the best of days, a workaholic, socially challenged and atop of that he was imprisoned and tortured for weeks, which hasn't improved his overall constitution. 

For a few minutes there Percival had had trouble breathing, the dark theater too stuffy and hot and everything closing in. He'd managed to breathe through it, thinking he'd rather suffer a heart attack or suffocate right here then showing his weakness and leaving. 

The air outside is like a cold bite to Percival's cheeks, causing needles and pins in his lung as he inhales deeply. It smells like winter, like it'll snow soon.

"Should I walk you back?" He asks. 

"There's an alley just around the corner where I can apparate," Newt is quick to assure him and Percival tries hard not to follow the path of his thoughts down the 'He wants to get away from you' route. 

"Of course, of course. I don't life too far from here so I think I'll walk." Percival's smile feels tight, tugging uncomfortably on the corners of his lips and his cheeks. 

"Mh." Newt nods and for the briefest of moments it almost looks like he's stalling for time, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. 

"I had a really good time tonight." 

Percival has to strain to hear him since Newt is talking at his shoes, but some of the tension in his cheeks eases. 

"Me too. Thank you for coming along." 

"Thank you for inviting me." 

"Thank you for accepting the invitation," Percival chuckles. 

Newt makes an amused little noise and Percival realises that he's never heard a full on laugh from him. Which, apparently, his brain immideately takes as a challenge. 

"So, I suppose, I better…" Newt gestures towards the alley before looking up at Percival. His features look soft bathed in the lamplight and it takes all of Percival's self-restraint to not lean down and capture his lips. He feels nervous, like a teenager , fumbling and palms sweating, and it's ridiculous. He's smoother than this. It's just that Newt throws him off track, makes him question everything that came so easy before. Anyone else Percival would've kissed by now without thinking twice, casting a notice-me-not (because wandless magic is impressive and so very convenient when you need both hands for something else) but Newt…Newt is the exception to every rule in Percival's life. 

"Goodnight, Newt." His voice comes out a little less steady than he'd like. Percival swallows against the scratchiness of it. 

"Goodnight." Newt does his awkward little wave before taking a step back, giving another one of his tiny smiles before he turns on hurries towards the alley. 

Percival looks after him for a few seconds before turning and starting to walk, like that'll make the ache in his chest ease. 

As he walks, it starts to snow. By the time he reaches his house the world around him is covered in white. 

~

_Percy,_

_my portkey is in ten days. Talk then. Please express owl me the guest list for the MACUSA Christmas Ball. And remind Newt that he'll need a new suit. How did Goldstein talk him into it by the way???_

_In brotherly love,  
Theseus_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: everyone's favourite big brother!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for all your lovely comments! They make me smile so much and I really need a few good distractions in life right now :) 
> 
> This is more of a filler chapter, BUT yay Theseus. And next up, the MACUSA winter ball extravaganza :D I'm quite excited to write this, not going to lie.

"For me?" Tina's face lights up as she snatches the paper bag from Percival's hands like he's going to change his mind. He's delivered the rest of the pastries throughout the room and is mostly in-favour of his aurors again. Though it worries him a tad how easy it is to bribe them. 

~  
_  
"You know, bossman, GrindelGraves always brought us coffee as well," Heberforth comments cheerfully before taking a ridiculously large bite out of his niffler pastry. Percival feels his eyelid twitching uncomfortably._

_"Come again?"_

_"Coffee. You know. Black, hot, delicious, helps us work better."_

_"The other part, Heberforth."_

_"Mh? Oh, Grindelgraves?" Heberforth replies, completely unperturbed. "That's what everyone calls it, you know. That time." And then the auror's eyes take on a shine that Percival doesn't like. At all. "Scamander came up with that. Because everything else is such a mouthful. Grindelwald imposturing Director Graves, and such. People like having short, snappy names for things."_

_It takes counting to ten in his mind for Percival to stop himself from conjuring a cup of coffee and pouring it over Heberforth's head._

_"Oh stop telling lies, Heberforth!" Karmenschek huffs in passing, stealing the foot of Heberforth's niffler pastry and giving Percival a wink._

_"Grindelgraves never bought us coffee, sir. But if you decided to do so we sure wouldn't complain."_  
  
~

Way too easy to bribe. Though maybe Percival will bring in coffee next time he has them working overtime. They've been remarkably good about not making him feel awkward upon his return. He senior aurors know him well enough to not take his gruffness personal and the juniors, well, it doesn't hurt that they have a healthy dose of respect for him. 

Percival waits until Tina takes a bite of her erumpet before launching his attack. He sits down in the chair across from hers and leans back casually.

"So, how did you do it? Get Newt to agree to going to the winter ball?" 

Tina's eyes widen and she chews faster while shaking her head frantically. 

"I didn't do it! It's Queenie's fault." 

That's unexpected. Then again, Percival should've known that Queenie Goldstein is sticking her nose where it doesn't belong once again. 

"Is it now?" 

"Yes. Because she can't take J-, I mean, because she's got nobody to go with and she really wants to go, so she talked Newt and me into coming along with her." 

"Ah." Percival nods. "Well, that's interesting to know." Of course the ball would be a very good chance to maybe make things clear to Newt, but Theseus is going to be there, which complicates matters. In short, Percival is running out of time. 

"Thank you for your time, Goldstein." 

Tina nods, looking like she survived an interrogation. At least she doesn't mix her personal and professional life. They've had dinner together several times now and she's seen a private side of him that nobody else in the department has. But like him she leaves that private person at the door of the MACUSA building to assume her professional role. He'll have to tell her that he appreciates it sometime. 

"Sir?" 

Percival turns around, eyebrow raised. Tina looks a little uncomfortable, but her chin juts forward slightly in determination. 

"Newt can be a little…oblivious to subtle clues. That is to say…if you wanted to…get him to understand something you'll have to be more obvious." 

Is it that easy to spot for other people? Or is Tina that perceptive? Percival decides to believe the later. 

"Thank you. I appreciate it," he nods before leaving for his office, gears already turning in his mind. 

~

"Director Graves." 

"Madam President." 

Seraphina closes the door behind her. 

"Your department smells like pastries." 

"Does it?" Percival raises an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. "Well, I suppose it could be worse." 

Seraphina snorts, clearly not believing him. 

Picking up his cup of coffee Percival brings it up, but his fingers start trembling and clenching and the cup slips from his grasp. It lands on his desk with a dull _thud_ and the rest of his coffee spreads out over his documents. 

"Damnit." It's still happening and Percival clenches and unclenches his fist a few times, using his left hand to vanish the mess over his desk. Doing magic with his left hand never works that well and a few brown spots stay behind. 

"Percy-" 

"Don't." He doesn't look up at Seraphina, clenching his right hand more tightly instead until his nails dig painfully into his palms. He doesn't want her pity, nor her concern. He's done being weak, he's been weak for far too long now. 

Seraphina sighs but knows him well enough to let it go. 

"I thought I'd asked you to deal with the Theseus Scamander situation?" 

"Yes. And I did." 

"Ah. Then how do you explain that I just received another letter from him, which sounds a little like he's planning on doing an inspection of my congress?" 

That Theseus related feeling is flooding through Percival again. 

"Yes, well." 

"I've had five people come in who needed talking down from a nervous breakdown because they know that Theseus Scamander is on his way here. Only Rosanne is delighted to finally meet him." 

"Yes. Well," Percival repeats. "He can be …a handful." 

"To say the least," Seraphina scoffs. "I have to admit, I'm almost curious to meet him." 

"You'll like him." Of that at least Percival is sure. He's not so sure if the rest of them will like it. Should Theseus and Seraphina join forces, world-domination would be an easy accomplishment for them. 

"Besides, I don't understand why everyone's so intimidated by him. You all worked alongside Grindelwald for weeks," Percival points out. He's not going to let that one go in a while. 

"Well, yes." Seraphine echoes him. "But the GrindelGraves thing was different. When you don't know about something it can't bother you." 

"Oh come on," Percival groans, leaning back in his chair. "Not you as well with the GrindelGraves!" 

"Why? It's catchy, don't you think?" Seraphina's lips twitch. 

"No, no I don't think it's catchy at all. In fact I want you to send out a memo and prohibit people from using it." 

"Of course, Percival. The President of the Magical Congress of America has nothing better to do, after all." This time Seraphina doesn't quite manage to keep the grin off her face. "Besides, I thought that seeing as Mister Scamander came up with it you'd rather like it." 

"Now what's that supposed to mean?" 

"Terribly sorry, but I've got another appointment," Seraphina smiles serenely. "Do make sure Scamander behaves himself when he comes here. Both of them." 

Percival huffs and glares at the door as it closes behind her. 

~

A knock echoes through the hut and Newt looks up from the chapter on thunderbirds he's editing. 

"Newt? Can I come down?" 

Percival. Newt hasn't expected the man to come by today and for a second he gawks at the empty air. 

"Newt?" 

"Uh…sure! Of course, yes, I mean, sure." Newt carefully puts his quill down and swallows against the fluttery feeling in his stomach. Maybe he ought to leave after the MACUSA ball. Surely that would be easier than feeling like this. 

Percival descends the rickety stairs carefully, holding a bunch of…flowers? Newt frowns. 

"Hello?" He isn't sure why it comes out as a question. Probably because he's still staring at the flowers. Sunflowers, tulips and blue irises in a cheerful combination. 

"Good evening," Percival's smile is a little twitchy and he keeps shifting his weight. In an abrupt gesture he holds out the flowers. 

"These are for you." 

"Oh." Tonight is full of unexpected things happening. Newt stares at the flowers a little longer before carefully taking them. He wonders for a second why Percival would bring _him_ flowers, before it clicks. Of course. Percival has helped him with the beasts enough times to know their preferences. 

"Oh! That's very thoughtful of you, thank you! I'm sure the swooping evil is going to love them. But…you brought them so you should feed them to her!" It makes Newt happy to know that Percival has taken such an interest in the creatures that he remembers what special treats they like. 

Only, Percival looks a little crestfallen, mouth hanging open. 

"Percival? Are you all right?" 

Percival snaps his mouth shut and nods slowly. "Yes, I'm…yes." 

"Would you like a glass of water?" Newt's concern is growing and he fiddles with the flowers. Their soft aroma is tickling his nose and for a second Newt wishes he could keep them. 

"No, no I'm fine." 

"Right. Uhm. Do you want to come along then?" 

Percival nods and takes off his coat and scarf, hanging them by the stairs. He rolls up his sleeves and then Newt hands the flowers back to him with a smile. 

"Come on, then. Swooping evil is going to be delighted." 

~

As delighted as the swooping evil is as she drops down from the sky to pluck the flowers from Percival's hands, the man himself looks rather…pouty. Newt tries not to stare to openly, preparing the meat for the graphorns instead. 

Their conversation is a little strained as they move from habitat to habitat, but Newt's gotten used to Percival sometimes not wanting to talk. He fills the silences by telling Percival about the Niffler's newest adventures, attempting to steal Queenie's pearls only to scuttle up to her and return them when she gave him a sad look. 

"Nifflers are really quite loyal to their families, you know." 

"Damn!" 

Percival's exclamation and a loud clatter break Newt's monologue. He turns around to see the bucket with the kibble for the mooncalfs on the ground and Percival shaking his hand. 

"Sorry. It's fine," Percival mumbles, but Newt can see the way his hands tremble. Putting the hay he was carrying down Newt walks over. If there's one thing he's good with it's injuries. 

"Let me see." 

Before Percival can protest Newt takes his right hand, gently turning it over. It looks like the muscles are spasming. 

"How long has that been happening for?" He presses his thumb against the palm of Percival's hand, electing a held back moan. 

"A few weeks." Percival sounds strained. 

"Have you talked to a Medic?" Newt takes Percival's hand in both of his, using his thumbs to massage circles over the palm, trying to get the muscles to relax. 

"They say it's a side effect. That it'll probably go away with time, but …it's been getting worse lately." 

Of course. A tendril of dread curls in Newt's stomach, remembering that Percival has endured Crucio numerable times under Grindelwald. It's not something he likes to think about, so instead he focuses on the way the tightly coiled muscles slowly loosen up. 

"Typical. If a potion can't heal it they won't deal with it," Newt huffs. "I think it might just be irritation of the nerves and muscles, causing them to spasm. The cold isn't helping. With exercises to fully stretch them again it should eventually go away completely." Newt carefully straightens Percival's fingers out, eyes darting up when Percival makes another noise to check he hasn't hurt him. It doesn't look like it though, Percival is merely staring down at their hands. 

"I can show you a few exercises, if you'd like?" Newt has had plenty of experience with torn ligaments and muscles to know about this. Growing up with Theseus and taking care of injured beasts teaches one valuable lessons. 

"S-sure." Percival's voice is a little scratchy and Newt thinks that maybe he should've made him drink some water earlier after all. 

~

Considering that she's an auror, and thinks herself good at her job, Tina is monumentally ignorant sometimes. She hadn't thought anything of Newt asking her to come along to the pictures, merely assuming he didn't want to go alone. And she loves going to the pictures, so truth be told she didn't think much beyond her own excitement at all.

Now, with Percival Graves glaring daggers at her, Tina desperately wishes she'd given this more thought. 

"Tina," Percival sounds like he's chewing gravel. 

"Good evening," Tina is proud that her voice doesn't break under Percival's glare. Newt, oblivious to the tension between the two, smiles and looks far too excited. 

"You know, I've never been to the pictures before." He looks around, clearly impressed by their surroundings. Tina would be as well, it's a beautiful building, but currently she's engaged in eye-combat with her boss slash friend. And isn't that a hard line to navigate. 

Tina raises in eyebrow before clenching her hands, sticking out the pointer finger of her right hand, slightly rotating it. Their departments sign language comes in handy even when they're not on a stakeout, arresting criminals. 

_Don't know_

Percival's glare softens a little at that. Tina nods subtly towards Newt before signalling _ask me come_

Tina doesn't need sign language to read the slump of Percival's shoulders and the exasperated - and slightly desperate - sigh. Glancing sideways she realises that Newt has wandered off to inspect the framed movie posters on the walls. Occasionally his tendency to wander off and disappear without saying anything is helpful. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," Tina hisses, taking a step closer to Percival. 

"I gathered that," he sighs, looking weary as the fight drains from him and Tina can't help but feel sorry for him. 

"I really am sorry. I didn't want to ruin your evening." 

"Don't worry about it," Percival mumbles, knuckling at his eyes. He hasn't looked well-rested in weeks, the bags under his eyes growing end expanding. "He probably didn't want to spend time with me alone." He sound so resigned that there's a twitch of pain in Tina's chest. 

"I'm sure that's not it. You know how he gets," she murmurs, watching over Percival's shoulder as Newt tilts his head to the side and intently studies the poster for "Don Juan" like it's a particularly rare and puzzling creature. "I told you, you need to be more obvious." 

"Tina," Percival groans. "I tried. I bought him _flowers_. Which he fed to the swooping evil." 

Tina's mouth works but no sound comes out as she processes what Percival said. Then she feels it bubbling up, her shoulders shaking and even her lips pressed tightly together not able to hold in her giggles. It's so inappropriate, she shouldn't be laughing about Percival's misery but - "He…he fed…to," Tina gasps out and her giggles turn into full blown laughter. Percival gawping at her like a fish doesn't make it better. But then the corners of his lips start to twitch as well and he joins in her laughter, albeit not quite as enthusiastic. 

Eventually Tina has to lean forward a little, clutching her side and ringing for breath. 

"What's so funny?" Newt has wandered back over to them and is looking quizzically from Percival to Tina. It almost sets her off again. 

"Nothing." 

Tina is thankfully saved from having to give a more elaborate explanation by the announcement that the movie is about to start. They hurry to their seats along with the others who mingled outside in the lobby and Tina makes sure that Percival sits between her and Newt. 

"I'm sorry I laughed," she whispers. 

"I can see why it's amusing," Percival whispers back. 

The lady in the row before them turns around gives them an angry look. Tina bites her fist and shakes with silent laughter. 

As much as she loves going to the pictures, tonight she has a hard time focusing on the screen, observing the way Percival is trying very hard not to lean towards Newt and the way Newt's eyes dart to Percival every time he laughs, like he wants to make sure Percival is laughing as well. 

They're idiots, clearly in need female guidance. 

~

A witch selling love potions on the black market (to No-Maj women atop of that) throws a wrench in all of Percival's wooing-Newt-before-Theseus-arrives plans. He doesn't leave his office until late and returns as one of the first in the morning, throwing himself into the case with the energy of someone desperate to avoid all other areas of his life. 

He's wrapping up the paperwork when there's a commotion outside his door before said door is thrown open. 

"Percy!" Theseus grin is almost blinding. His hair, a tad blonder and longer than Newt's, is windswept and messy and his well-worn army coat is buttoned up wrong. He's so loud and so alive and for a moment Percival is caught up in how glad he is to see him. Then he remembers the Newt thing and feels torn because he isn't so glad anymore. 

"Theseus." 

Putting his suitcase down Theseus bangs the door shut behind himself before striding over to Percival's desks, pulling him out of his chair and into a hug with his usual force. It's familiar and something in Percival's chest eases as he hugs back. 

"It's good to see you." 

"Yes, yes you too, but let's not waste time with sentimentalities," Theseus slaps Percival's back and steps back. "I'm meeting Newt for dinner in five, but I had to stop by and make sure you were still alive and all."

"How very kind of you," Percival huffs. 

"Oh you know me, the kindest of them all," Theseus laughs. "Are you free tonight? Eight o'clock at the Raunchy Leprechaun?" 

"Well, I suppose since you're asking so nicely and sincerely I can make time for you in my schedule." 

"How very, very kind," Theseus echoes him with a smirk before pulling Percival into another hug. "Seriously, it's good to see you, Percy. Even though you look like hell. Not that your mug is attractive on any given day, but mate, you managed to outdo yourself." 

Percival is fluent enough in Theseus to recognise it for the concern it is. 

"My apologise, I'll pull a paperbag over my head tonight if it'll make you feel better." 

"It'll make me feel better if you sleep and eat and stop looking so pathetic," Theseus huffs, pinching Percival's cheek for good measure. "Seriously." 

"Oh fuck off." Percival pushes Theseus' hand away though there's no heat behind the gesture. "It's just been a few long days working on a case. You know how it gets." 

Theseus studies him for a moment, all good humour absent from his face. "Yeah, I know, Percy. And I also know that a few long nights don't result in looking like this." 

"Can we not-" 

"Yes, we will. Tonight, over a few drinks. Don't be late, all right?" Theseus claps his shoulder, the ghost of a smile back on his face. 

"Sure. See you tonight." 

"Later, Percy." 

Like the whirlwind he appeared, Theseus is gone again, leaving Percival behind with his heart lighter and heavier all the same.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all very much for the lovely comments on the last chapter :))) I truly appreciate them all. I've had a bit of a crappy week, had to attend the funeral of a family friend today. Apparently dealing with ~feelings makes me write, so here's another chapter :) 
> 
> Oh and also, for ~reasons in this story there is no picture of Leta Lestrange in Newt's suitcase...
> 
> As always, not beta'ed, please forgive my mistakes

* * *

   


The Raunchy Leprechaun is one of those places where time stands still. It never changes and stepping inside always feels like coming home. The floor is still sticky, possibly even more so because a few more layers of spilt drinks have been added to its coating, and it still smells the same, like cigarettes and liquor. The buzz of the conversations is the same. Even some of the patrons are the same, sitting in their usual spots with a few more wrinkles on their faces.

Percival has changed and there are wrinkles on his face now as well, but stepping into the Raunchy Leprechaun almost makes him feel young again, like walking through the door stripped away the years of his life that have made his shoulders grow heavy and his hair grey.

Theseus has secured them the table in the corner they always preferred when they needed to talk, as opposed to joining into the general ruckus.

"You're late."

"A wizard is never late, Theseus. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to," Percival retorts with a smirk as he takes off his coat and scarf before sitting down.

"C'mon, don't go about quoting that old beard," Theseus rolls his eyes and pushes a glass of beer towards Percival. "Still serving that watered-down shit, I see. Shoulda brought some from home."

"We take what we can get," Percival shrugs and raises his glass before taking a sip. He hasn't done this in too long, gone out after work and unwound over drinks.

"At least you have good bakeries."

"Newt take you to Kowalski's?" Percival stretches out his legs and flexes his fingers, gaze drifting over the crowd. He wasn't so concerned with having his back to the wall a few years back.

"Yes. It was good, especially the niffler danishes."

"Figures you'd like them. I prefer the demiguise ones."

"Figures," Theseus chuckles, lightly kicking Percival's leg under the table.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you always liked vanilla."

Percival groans and kicks Theseus right back. Here they are, men over thirty and in powerful positions, kicking and taking the piss. It really is like the good old times.

"So."

It's Theseus' way of opening up the conversation for more serious topics and Percival takes a large sip of beer, hoping it'll make things easier.

"Newt and Tina. Is there something going on there?"

Rapidly Percival regrets taking such a big gulp as the liquid goes down the wrong way and he starts coughing. Theseus raises an eyebrow and watches with interest instead of helping him, which causes Percival to panic a little. He can't give himself away like this, not when he hasn't tested the waters with Theseus yet.

"W-what?" He manages to get out once he's recovered somewhat, adding a raspy laugh for good measure. "That's ridiculous, why would you think that?"

Or…is it? What if it was Percival who crashed Tina's and Newt's date? What if Tina is feeling sorry for him because as soon as he's out of sight she's the one kissing Newt? Percival's chest constricts painfully again and he barely manages to conceal the panic bubbling up inside of him. Theseus' heavy gaze on him is the only thing grounding Percival enough to pull his neutral facade into place.

"Not? Almost a pity, she seems like a nice girl," Theseus comments and Percival knows, just _knows_ that the words are a trap. He needs to navigate this carefully.

"I haven't thought about Miss Goldstein in that way. She's one of my aurors, you know how it is."

"Of course." Theseus doesn't sound entirely convinced yet, but he's not leaning quite so much into Percival's space anymore.

"That was a bit of a violent reaction, mate. Are you-"

Percival panics and in a rather desperate last resort knocks over his drink. "Oh no, pardon me. Such a klutz. I'll go get another!" He mutters a cleaning spell and jumps up before Theseus can comment, and ~~flees~~ walks to the bar. Drawing on all the techniques he's learnt as an auror Percival calms and centers himself while the goblin behind the bar pulls their drinks. By the time he returns to the table and puts Theseus' and his beer down he feels more in control of the situation again.

"Sorry. Sometimes I still get weird muscle spasms," Percival offers as an explanation, only feeling marginally bad that he's using the Grindelwald incident to his advantage. Then again, he's suffered for weeks, he might as well use that suffering for something positive.

"Newt mentioned it," Theseus replies, looking at Percival's hands like he'll be able to make sense of it by looking alone. "Bastard did a right number on you, huh?"

"Mhm," Percival nods, sipping his beer.

"You know, I've seen people with the same look in their eyes you got. People coming back from war."

Here we go. Though Percival can hardly be annoyed, he was the one bringing the Grindelwald thing up.

"You know I've been to war with you, right? I know what the aftermath looks like. This is different, all right? Don't worry, Zeus. I'm fine." Percival traces a circle on the table with a spilt drop of beer.

"You've always been a shoddy liar, Percy."

"I'm head of the department of security, I can't be that easy to read," Percival huffs.

"Not for others, maybe, but for me," Theseus retorts with an edge of annoyance.

"Yeah, right. Because you're so special."

"Oh, shut it. Honestly, Percy. People are just willing to believe your bullshit because you've got a way with words, but anyone looking longer than a second can see that you're not fine. Nobody would be fine after what happened to you. And before you bitch me out for it, no, this isn't pity. It's concern. Because I'm your friend and friends are concerned for their friends. So pull your head out of your gigantic arse and stop being so scared about people pitying you. You were captured by the darkest wizard of our time and here you are, still walking and talking and functioning. People have got nothing but respect for that."

It sits like a slap, the words ringing in Percival's ears. "Shoulda gone into politics with the way you're swinging speeches these days," he mutters in reply because he doesn't know what else to say. Theseus huffs and reaches over to clasp his shoulder.

"Whatever. As long as the message came through loud and clear. I know you and I know you're not the type for talking, but if you ever wanna, you know I'm here for you, right?"

Percival nods, still not looking up and studying the cracks in the wooden table instead.

"I think helping with Newt's beasts is a good start anyway. And he seems happy enough to have your help, which is saying a lot. My little brother doesn't make friends easily."

Percival's breathing eases as Theseus takes the hint and effortlessly changes the topic. "He seems very reluctant."

"Mh, yes. Things happened to him too. But that's not my story to tell. I'm glad he's got you here and the Goldsteins seem like good people too. It's good knowing that people care about him." For the first time since he arrived Theseus seems to let himself fully relax. He looks tired as he leans back in his chair and there are faint lines around his eyes and lips. Time hasn't bypassed either of them without leaving traces.

"He's…," Percival has a hard time not launching into a monologue of his own about all the things that are wonderful about Newt. He's pretty sure that it would be the final straw giving him away. "He's a great guy. We like having him here. Good asset for the department as well."

"Always been saying people don't value magical beasts enough. I'm sure his book is going to change things." The proud big brother comes through in Theseus again and Percival can't help but mirror his enthusiastic smile.

"I'm sure. Are you we done with this depressing heart-to-heart or should we talk about your feelings some more?"

"Shut your mouth. Just because I have feelings as opposed to a cold stone like you," Theseus huffs, kicking Percival again for good measure. "No, we're done. Let's talk about something more pleasant. The ball still as grand as I remember it?"

"I suppose," Percival shrugs. Admittedly he hadn't paid much attention the past few years, sitting through the speeches and exchanging some pleasantries before making use of the open bar and apparating home shortly past midnight.

"You boring old man," Theseus groans before his eyes take on that glint again that always makes Percival excited and nervous all the same. "This year you're going to have fun. I'll make sure of it."

~

The annual MACUSA Christmas Ball is marked red in the calendars of all the socialites and wannabes, the who-is-who of wizarding society in New York. It's not an event Percival usually appreciates, though Seraphina has forced him to attend every year. "Schmoozing is part of your job as department head, Percival," she'd always say, ignoring his artfully perfected manly sulk. No doubt she had a speech prepared this year as well and Percival takes delight in her flabbergasted expression when he tells her there is no need for it, he'll happily attend this year.

'Happily' might be an exaggeration and off the top of his head Percival can think off about five different things he'd rather do tonight, but Newt is going to be there, even though he'll most likely attend with Tina. Damn, Percival really needs to stop thinking about them.

His fingers twitch as he ties his bowtie and he flexes them, trying not to get lost in the phantom touch of Newt massaging the cramps away.

Percival checks his reflection once more, pushes a strand of hair back into place, takes a deep breath and apparates to Lewis' castle, hidden away just outside New York and decked out in festive cheer. It's been snowing for the past few days and so the castle, built not too long ago but modeled after the European castles of old, looks like something out of a fairytale nestled at the edge of a forest and surrounded by white. The light streaming out through the windows looks warm and inviting and the path to the castle is lit by fairies. A family consisting of a snowman, snowwoman and three snowchildren is singing happy carols along the way.

Percival has arrived as late as possible while still being on time, which means that most other guests have arrived already. He prefers it this way, being able to walk up to the castle with only a couple in front of him.

"Director Graves, sir. Roldan will be happy to take your coat, sir." The house-elf nearly falls over himself in his hurry to take Percival's coat, scarf and hat, scuttling off to the cloak room as if he's carrying great treasure. Percival takes a moment to fix his bowtie before heading to the ballroom.

Softly shimmering snowflakes light the ballroom, floating high up in the air and drifting down. Together with the candles on the round tables scattered through the room they create a warm, iridescent kind of light. A huge tree stands at the head of the hall, decorated in blue and silver ornaments, glittering wood fairies sitting on the branches in groups or chasing each other around the tree. Next to the tree the band has set up, two goblins, a witch and a centaur, filling the air with the tones of mellow jazz. Some couples are kissing under the mistletoes already while others try to get their sweethearts to step under the branches.

"Your table is up there, sir. Right up there, Roldan will show sir!" The house-elf from before is back and before Percival can reply he's grabbed the edge of Percival's sleeve and leads him through the room, up to one of the tables at the front. Tina spots him first and waves. Percival's smile only feels a little forced.

"Thank you, Roldan. I'll find my way from here."

"Of course, sir. Happy evening, sir! Only call if you need anything, sir!" Roldan squeaks before disappearing with a _pop_

"Percy! About time!" Theseus slaps his back as Percival pulls out the only chair still empty - between Newt and Theseus. He's got a feeling Seraphina got involved with the seating plan.

"What, miss me already?" He teases Theseus before nodding his greetings to the rest of the table. Newt is sitting to his left, next to him is Tina, then Queenie, Percival's second-in-command Auror Damian Alisto and his wife Dorothea, and finally Theseus to Percival's right. Seraphina had definitely shuffled the seating arrangements around here. Not that Percival minded one bit.

In the middle of the table there's a raised platform holding a white cake, two snowmen iceskating on the frosting. Under the platform stands a cauldron, a laddle automatically stirring the mulled wine and pouring a glass for Percival as soon as he sits down. About to take a sip Percival is suddenly pulled to the side and Theseus places a smacking kiss on his cheek.

"What the-"

"Mistletoe," Theseus grins, patting Percival's cheek before leaning back, obviously satisfied with himself. Percival most definitely doesn't think that damn, wrong brother.

"Your brother is a menace," he tells Newt, who's watching the snowmen ice skate with a smile on his face. Considering how many people there are around he seems remarkably calm, most likely due to the fact that he's surrounded by friends. He's wearing a dark suit with a bright blue vest, bringing out his eyes and the red in his hair. Percival thinks he heard Theseus mention that Queenie Goldstein had taken Newt shopping. If so she's done a great job picking an outfit that makes Newt one of the most striking wizards present today. Or maybe Percival is biased.

"I know," Newt smiles fondly and Percival's chest aches with how much he wants to kiss that smile. He takes a sip of wine instead. It's so hot it burns his tongue, which turns out to be a good distraction.

"It's much nicer than I thought it would be," Newt says, leaning a little into Percival's space like he only means for him to hear it. "I thought Queenie was exaggerating but it really is nice. I already chatted with the wood fairies, they are excited to be here every year."

Of course Newt already chatted with the fairies. Percival isn't even trying to hide his fond smile. "It's always very impressive, I agree."

"I heard there's some spirits and fairies out in the forrest as well, I think I'll go there later to have a look," Newt looks a little strangely at Percival, but before he's got a chance to parse the look Theseus leans into Percival's space from the other side.

"We discussed this, Newt. If you have to go into that forrest, which frankly is not a good idea, I'll come along."

Newt rolls his eyes but nods, reaching for his drink. "Yes, yes I heard you the first five times. Don't worry. I won't go alone."

Percival can't help the feeling that there's something more to this, but before he can think about it there's a _pop_ and the first course appears on their plates.

Chatter flows easily around their table as they eat, Dorothea entertaining them with stories of Graham, her three year old son getting excited for Christmas. Newt and Theseus bicker as brothers will and it's the most forthcoming Percival has ever seen Newt. With Theseus he has none of the inhibitions he displays so often and his smiles come easier. Percival wishes he could keep him like this forever and take everything that scares him when Theseus is not around away. Queenie keeps looking Percival's way with a far too knowing and far too satisfied smirk and he is hard-pressed not to flip her off, opting for an overly sweet smile instead.

Things go well until people start to linger after dessert and Theseus nearly puts his fork through Percival's hand.

"Why didn't you tell me he was here?" He hisses, glaring like Percival has insulted his mother, his honour and Newt all at once.

"What? Who?" Percival scans the crowd with a frown. Maybe Delegato? But hadn't Theseus and him talked it out a few years ago and stopped their arch-nemesis act?

"Shhhhh," Theseus kicks him under the table and flaps his hands in the air. "Be quiet!" He leans around Percival and makes sure Newt is still involved in a conversation about house-elf rights with Tina before grabbing the lapels of Percival's jacket and pulling him close.

"That suit was expensive, get your ruddy paws off of-"

"Be quiet and listen," Theseus hisses, tightening his grasp. "Why is Rodolphus Cauldwell here?"

"Who?" Percival frowns and scans the crowd, trying to match the faces to names. "You mean Rodolphus Lestrange?"

"Ah, figures he married," Theseus mumbles, still ignoring Percival's attempts to escape from his grasp without raising attention.

"Zeus, by Morgana, will you tell me what's going on?" Percival is losing what little patience he has.

"Rodolphus Cauldwell and his brother are the greatest arseholes from here to India, that's what," Theseus spits, finally letting go off Percival's jacket. There's a glint in his eyes that Percival has witnessed many times before and it never ended well.

"Care to share?"

Theseus' nostrils flare and he looks like a bull ready for a fight.

"Him and his pest of a brother decided to teach my brother a lesson about blood status. He was seven, Percy."

Before Percival even has the chance to notice his own blood burning hot with anger, Theseus pulls him close again.

"Get Newt out of here. There's no need for him to see that bastard. I'll take care of the rest."

Percival is torn between his role as director of Magical _Security_ , meaning he should ensure the safety of all wizards and witches at this event, and the urge to hex this man who hurt Newt into the next century. His heart beats violently against his ribcage as he swallows, making a decision.

"Do me a favour, Zeus. Take care of this in a way that won't cause an international incident?"

"Sure," Theseus' grin is sharp and would cause the blood of lesser men to run cold. His chair scrapes against the floor as he gets to his feet, giving the rest of their table a pleasant smile. "I thought I just caught sight of a friend from back home. Excuse me ladies, gents. Newt, I'm sure Percival will go see the forrest creatures with you instead of me."

Newt, halfway through his dessert, looks up with a frown. "Hm?"

Using the general commotion of Theseus getting up, Percival gets to his feet as well and holds his hand out to Newt. "Sure, I'd love to come along. Newt, let's go?"

"What, now?" Newt asks, looking between Percival's hand and his chocolate fudge cake.

"Yes, yes now. The wood spirits are going to sleep soon," Theseus waves his hand impatiently.

Newt opens his mouth like he wants to protest, but another meaningful look from Theseus makes him nod and put his fork aside. "Yes, of course, it's getting awfully late," he mumbles, hesitating only for a second before he takes Percival's hand.

Theseus and Percival briefly nod at each other before Theseus disappears into the crowd and Percival pulls Newt towards the back door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ominous music playing* 
> 
> Will Theseus cause an international incident? What did Rodolphus and his brother do to Newt? Are the wood creatures really asleep already???
> 
> Find out in the next chapter *dramatic music increase*


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to print all your lovely comments and stick them up on the wall because seriously, you guys keep me going and make me feel all warm and happy and wonderful! THANK YOU <3 I still owe you replies, but I figured you'd rather have another chapter first :) I tried very hard to make it good and I hope it meets expectations *bites nails nervously*

* * *

 

Percival had been a naturally curious child, investigating everything from the muddy paw prints in the back garden (the neighbours cat) to the effect of combining salamander blood and chocolate in the cauldron (explosion). He devoured the books in the extensive library of his family's mansion, and was among the top students of Ilvermorny in his year, thanks to his curiosity that constantly made him question how and why things worked and happened.

During his auror training Percival learned ways to channel and use his curiosity, and ways to hide it.

It's only his training that keeps Percival from turning around to satisfy his curiosity. He wants to know what is going on, what Theseus is doing, and what it was that Rodolphus Lestrange did so long ago. But there's a time to talk and a time for action and Percival has known Theseus long enough, has worked as an auror long enough, to understand that answers will have to wait until later.

He forces himself to walk slowly, keep up the facade that they're going for a stroll. Newt's palm is warm against his, the callouses on his fingers feeling like sparking points of contact where they rest against his skin. There's no reason for them to be holding hands, but Percival isn't willing to let go just yet.

"Roldan?"

With a crack the elf appears. "Yes, Master Graves, sir, what does sir need?"

"Could you get our coats, please, Roldan?"

"Of course, sir, of course!" Roldan disappears again and Percival slows down as they reach the backdoor. He's lost his momentum now, not quite sure what to say or do. Roldan apparating again with a loud _crack_ and nearly staggering under the weight of Percival's and Newt's coats saves Percival for now.

"Thank you, Roldan."

"A pleasure, sir!" Roldan squeaks happily. "Sirs are going for a walk? Roldan brought something so sirs won't get cold!" The elf presses a vacuum flask into Newt's hands once Newt has his coat on. "Master Newt was so very nice to the house-elves, we wants to thank Master Newt! Dippy made it herself!"

"That's very kind of you," Newt smiles. "Please tell Dippy thank you from Mister Graves and me."

"Of course, right away!" Roldan bows so deeply his nose almost touches the floor before disapparating again.

"Made new friends already?" Percival asks, trying not to let too much fondness shine through in his voice.

Newt smiles and turns the flask in his hands. "I suppose. I always….found making friends among creatures easier than humans," he shrugs awkwardly before making for the door. "Shall we?"

"Sure. Wouldn't want the creatures to go to sleep, right?" Percival chuckles as he follows Newt out the door. The air seems even colder after the heat of the ballroom and when the door closes behind them the sounds of the ball are cut off into abrupt silence. A warming charm settles over them with a quick flick of Percival's hand and he casts a protection charm over their shoes for good measure. Newt doesn't seem overly concerned, but Percival's shoes are Italian leather and he quite likes them.

"Actually, a lot of wood creatures are nocturnal," Newt explains. The snow crunches underneath their shoes as they make for the forest, away from the lights of the castle. Percival takes his wand out after all.

"Lumos."

The light from his wand casts their surroundings in eery light, the snow glittering and shimmering.

"What do you expect we'll find?" Percival asks, glancing sideways at Newt. Despite the warming charm the tip of Newt's nose is a little red.

"The fairies said some of their families remained out here. I also think there might be nargles and lillyfoots around," Newt replies, looking around attentively, glancing up at the trees.

The forest at night appears other-wordly, the trees bowing under the weight of the snow, the cracking and crunching of branches breaking the silence every now and then. The light from Percival's wand makes the shadows dance, and for a few seconds he's busy talking himself out of a panic attack. They're out here together, both accomplished wizards, and Grindelwald is locked up safely in England. Nothing to worry about at all.

"I think some shadeshifters might live here as well," Newt muses. "They're hard to spot though, and very shy, so I doubt we'll see one."

Just then a branch above them creaks ominously and Percival startles. Newt looks up and breaks into a smile.

"Look," he whispers. Percival wants to reply that he's already looking, watching Newt's face in the light of his wand, the way his eyes sparkle and his lips pull into one of those beautiful smiles, snowflakes getting stuck in his lashes and his hair.

Reigning himself back in he steps up behind Newt and tips his head back, finding a large snow owl looking down at them with intelligent eyes. It's larger than any owl Percival has ever seen, and breathtakingly majestic. And yet what holds his attention is that he's standing so close that he can smell Newt, a unique scent of wood and the outdoors, mixed in with the clean scent of soap.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, not sure himself what he's commenting on.

The owl hoots before it forcefully pushes off the branch, dislodging some of the snow, and flies off into the night. Newt takes a step back and collides with Percival's front.

"Oh, sorry, so sorry," he mumbles, stepping forward again. The universe really must be testing Percival this evening, his fingers twitching with the wish to wrap around Newt's waist.

"You look cold, do you want to head back?" Newt asks, turning and glancing at Percival before biting his lips.

"What? No, not at all, I'm fine," Percival replies.

"Are you sure? I mean…you'd probably rather be back at the ball and socialize. I know most people don't…like wandering around outside, looking for creatures."

He looks so resigned that Percival is hard pressed to turn around and march back into the ballroom, hexing Rodolphus Lestrange into the next century. He's the only one available to him right now, who's hurt Newt, but Percival would gladly hunt down each and every person ever giving Newt the feeling that he isn't good enough.

"Newt, honestly, there's no place I'd rather be right now," Percival assures and enjoys the hints of red creeping into Newt's cheeks.

"All right, then," Newt mumbles. "Let's see what Dippy made for us then." He opens the flask and sniffs it before taking a tentative sip only to pull a face and spit the liquid out right away with a cough. "Merlin that's strong," he gasps.

"Oh come on, you're exaggerating," Percival laughs and takes the flask from Newt, taking a sip of his own. It takes all his strength to swallow and not pull a face, because he sure as hell isn't going to admit defeat when Newt looks at him so challengingly. But whatever Dippy prepared is _potent_ , burning its way down from Percival's throat to his stomach. It is warming though.

"Not half bad," he gets out with only a minor cough, causing Newt to narrow his eyes.

"It's vile."

"Yes, well, it's not the best I've had. But it really is warming, I promise," Percival can feel warmth tingling under his skin and it's the most peculiar sensation, different to a warming charm, working more from the inside out as opposed to the blanket of warmth the spell creates.

"Go on, try it." Percival holds out the flasks and wiggles it. Newt looks at it sceptically before sighing deeply and taking it.

"Fineeee." He takes another sip and swallows, face contorting and coughing. "Oh it's so bad," he groans, wiping the back of his hand over his lips. "But…it does work I suppose," he adds, his posture relaxing as he warms up.

"Good. Then we can go looking for more…nargles. Or whatever."

"To the nargles! Follow me." Newt laughs and the sound makes a different kind of warmth spread through Percival.

They walk side by side and occasionally their hands brush against each other, sending a jolt through Percival's body.

"I know why we came out here," Newt suddenly breaks the silence and Percival notices for the first time that he's looking down instead of up. Do nargles live on the ground, or has Newt stopped looking?

"Mh? Because of the forest creatures?"

"No," Newt retorts, an edge to his voice that Percival hasn't heard before. "I saw him, you know. Theseus thinks I didn't, but I'm a magizoologist. It's my job to watch and notice things," he huffs, lines of tension appearing on his face.

"Oh." So much for being subtle.

"Did he tell you?" Newt asks and he sound so worried and anxious that Percival stops and turns, grabbing Newt's wrist. He tugs slightly until Newt shifts to face him, though his eyes remain firmly fixed on Percival's shoes.

"No. He didn't tell me anything." Percival let's go off Newt's wrist, but links their fingers loosely, wanting and needing to keep the contact. "It's your story and I would only hear it from you, if you were willing to tell me. If not, I accept that as well. No matter the reason, I enjoy being out here with you."

Newt's eyes fly up to meet Percival's for a few seconds, looking wide and startled.

"Oh." Newt takes his time mulling things over, his fingers twitching against Percival's. Eventually he inhales shakily. "I…I trust you?" Frowning, he draws in another breath and pulls his shoulders back. Percival watches in fascination and can't help but be reminded of a foal finding its legs.

"I trust you," Newt repeats, his voice steadier this time. He's silent for a few seconds, like he's testing out how the statement makes him feel. Percival remains silent, feeling like they're on the brink of something important.

"Maybe we should sit down for this," Newt suggests, a hint of insecurity back in his voice.

"Whatever you'd like," Percival is quick to agree and reassure. He waves his wand and a blanket appears in front of a large tree trunk. Percival waves a few warming and protection charms around it and as an afterthought conjures a lantern. His wand hand is getting tired.

"Now it almost feels like a picnic," Newt smiles, though there's an edge to it. He takes his time sitting down. Percival sits down next to him and leans back against the tree, taking the flask as Newt passes it to him. This time he's prepared and takes a larger swig, almost relishing the burn.

The silence between them draws out as they watch the snowflakes fall. It's comfortable and Percival lets it be, giving Newt all the time he needs as they pass the flask back and forth.

"We…we used to live in a village in south England, near Brighton," Newt eventually says, pulling at a loose thread on the blanket and pinching it between his fingers.

"My dad, he's a muggle. Uh, a No-Maj. But mummy never kept being a witch a secret from him, so we lived on the outskirts of this wizarding village. Dad worked in the next village over. There…the Cauldwells lived close by and their…their younger son, Rufus, was my age so we became friends. He'd tell me about his older brother at Hogwarts. He made him sound very…well, you know how younger brothers talk about older brothers. But…but his older brother came home during the summer holidays and he didn't like me much."

~

_"Really, Rufus, I thought we'd talked about this?"_

_Newt and Rufus look up from their game of gobstones. A boy walks towards them, much taller than either of them and glaring in a mean way. His dark hair is styled like Newt has seen the men in the village style it. It looks a little funny on him, like he's playing dress up. His face does look a little like Rufus' though, only less pudgy._

_Jumping to his feet Newt smiles and holds out his hand to the boy. "Hello. I'm Newt! Who're you?"_

_The boy sneers down at Newt. It isn't a very nice expression._

_"Rufus! Come here." He bellows and Newt flinches. Next to him Rufus gets to his feet with a sigh._

_"Yes, Rodolphus," he mutters, walking to stand by the boy's side._

_"Oh, you're Rufus' brother," Newt says, looking between the two of them and still not understanding what is going on or why Rodolphus is so angry. It's way too early for them to be late for dinner!_

_"That's none of your business, filthy half-blood!" Rodolphus shoves him and Newt falls down, too stunned to react._

_"What did you do that for?" He asks, trying very hard not to let his bottom lip wobble. Only babies cry. Theseus always says so._

_"I don't need a reason," Rodolphus snorts, kicking Newt's side. This time Newt can't hold back a cry because it _hurts_. _

_"You're a disgusting half-blood, that's reason enough. Isn't he, Rufus?"_

_By now Newt's vision is blurry with tears, but he turns his eyes to his friend beseechingly. Surely Rufus will tell his brother to stop?_

_Looking between Newt and Rodolphus, Rufus seems indecisive for a moment before shrugging. "I suppose."_

_"There you hear it. Nobody wants anything to do with the likes of you," Rodolphus smirks. "Your filthy whore of a mother brought disgrace to the entire village. It's about time somebody taught you people a lesson!"_

_Newt's eyes widen as Rodolphus' smirk grows even more menacing as he takes out his wand. He seems like a giant towering over Newt, who tries in vain to scramble away. The forest where Rufus and him always play is well away from the village, so there's no way mother or father will hear him and come help._

_"I learnt some interesting spells this year in school, I've been wanting to test them on somebody for ages," Rodolphus laughs. It isn't a pleasant sound._

_"Petrificus Totalus!"_

_Newt's sob gets stuck in his throat as his body freezes. He's unable to move, save for blinking his eyelids. His heart hammers against his chest in a panic, his cries of distress silenced before they even have a chance to leave his lips._

_Turning his eyes to Rufus, pleading his friend for help, Newt finds Rufus watching with a sort of detached interest, much like he'd watched a bug that had been turned on its back struggle until Newt stepped in to help it. Something cold and achy spreads in his chest as he realises that no help will be coming from his friend._

_"Alarte Ascendere!"_

_Newt's stomach swoops unpleasantly as he's catapulted into the air, the branches of trees scratching and hitting him painfully as he rises higher and higher. Again, no sound leaves his mouth._

_Rodolphus entertains himself for several hours, trying out spells he knows and making some up along as he goes, testing their effects on Newt. When the sun begins to set he finally releases Newt from the bind._

_"Well, seems half-bloods are good for entertainment after all," Rodolphus laughs, patting Newt's cheek almost comfortingly, before grabbing his throat. "Don't you dare tell anybody about this. No one is going to believe a filthy blood traitor like you anyway."_

_Standing up Rodolphus puts his wand away and brushes off his robes. "Come on, Rufus. Mother will worry if we're not home by dinnertime."_

_Rufus doesn't look back even once as they walk away, leaving Newt behind, curled into a bundle of misery. He hurts all over, his little body traumatized. None of the spells Rodolphus has used have inflicted open wounds, but there are bruises already forming on Newt's freckled skin._

_Worse than the hurt is the humiliation, a hot, shameful feeling that makes him puke._

_Somehow he manages to stumble home, vision still blurry with tears, intent only on finding the safety of his mother's arms._

_Between Theseus hugging him and his mother tending to his bruises, Newt tells the story in between hiccuping sobs, despite Rodolphus' threats._

_He still remembers his father's sadness and his mother's anger. She'd marched off to the major as soon as Newt was tended to, leaving him in the warm embrace of his father who read him his favourite stories._

~

"Of course my mother got nowhere, the Cauldwells were old money. So we moved away." Newt takes another sip from the rapidly emptying flask. "When I started Hogwarts I made a friend on the train. Her name was Leta Lestrange. You…may have noticed that I'm not so good with people. I was even worse back then. So it was a big thing, making a friend. But her and Rodolphus had been promised to each other when they were children. He…he wasn't at Hogwarts anymore by then but he must've been sending her letters. She started echoing the things he used to say. We…didn't stay friends for long," Newt shrugs, says it with such resigned acceptance that Percival wants to scream.

His blood feels like its boiling and he hopes very, very much that Theseus turns Rodolphus Lestrange into a slimy ball of grime. If he doesn't Percival will.

Taking a deep breath Percival attempts to tamper his rage. Newt trusts him, trusts him enough to tell him this and Percival has a feeling that anger is only going to make him withdraw again.

"What a prick," he can't help but hiss though. No wonder Newt doesn't like people. No wonder he doesn't like them touching him or getting too close.

Newt glances over and smiles in that self-deprecating way of his. "It was a long time ago."

"Still," Percival grumbles.

"I know now that he was wrong. Just…I suppose he's made me weary of people," Newt shrugs. "And people are weary of me. Creatures like me better, so it's all worked out in the end, hasn't it?"

"That's not true," Percival protests. "You just don't see what effect you have on people."

Newt raises his eyebrows and glances over at Percival. "I make them uncomfortable."

"Not true," Percival shakes his head. "You're not making me uncomfortable. Nor Tina or Queenie or Jacob. Seraphina likes you as well, she's just got a strange way of showing it."

That at least draws a tiny smile from Newt. He bites his bottom lip, looking over at Percival from the corner of his eyes before staring resolutely ahead.

"What am I making you then?" In the lantern light his face is young and open and vulnerable, and although his hands are clasped in his lap Percival notices them trembling slightly.

He's moving before he can talk himself out of it, cupping Newt's cheek in his palm and pressing gently until Newt turns to face him.

"Right now you're making me want to kiss you," he admits, because fuck it, he's got nothing left to lose.

Newt's eyes flicker up and beneath the surprise Percival thinks he sees a glimmer of something else. Newt leans a little more into his palm and it's all the invitation Percival needs.

The first touch of lips is hesitant, the angle not quite right, yet it makes Percival feel like he's flying at high speed, his stomach swooping. Newt makes a soft noise and Percival's hand moves to his neck and pulls him closer, really kissing him this time.

It's a little awkward and a little clumsy, and without a doubt the best kiss of Percival's life. After the initial hesitation Newt isn't as shy as one would expect, leaning closer and curling his fingers into the lapels of Percival's coat. Beneath the alcohol he still tastes like chocolate.

The passage of time becomes a vague thing as they kiss, Newt's cold lips warming up under Percival's. He makes the most adorable little sounds that Percival wants to bottle and keep forever. They also make him curious what other sounds he can draw from Newt.

"Director Graves, your presence is requested immediately in the entrance hall. There has been an incident." The loud voice breaks through the silence like a whip and they pull apart like they've been burnt. Looking up, heart beating frantically and body alight with adrenaline, Percival spots a silvery eagle flapping its wings. Seraphina's patronus.

Looking back down he finds himself presented with Newt, eyes half-lidded and glassy, and lips plush and kiss-swollen. It's an image he wants to burn into his mind and keep for eternity. Incapable of resisting Percival leans in for one more kiss before pulling back with a regretful sigh, scratching his nails over the nape of Newt's neck.

"Your brother is a menace," he echoes his earlier words. Newt snorts and rests his head against Percival's shoulder.

"I know." His nose is cold as he tucks his face into the crook of Percival's neck. Closing his eyes and running his fingers up through Newt's hair Percival takes a moment to lament how much he doesn't want to leave, considering what would happen if he ignored Seraphina's orders.

"Director Graves!" The patronus screeches and lowers itself, wings beating like it wants to shoo Percival back to the castle. Figures that Picquery's patronus is as annoying and persistent as the woman herself.

"Suppose we have to go and save the masses from Theseus," Percival sighs. Newt nods and raises his head, lips pursed. Merlin help him, Percival has no restraint when it comes to Newt and steals another kiss. "You're cute when you pout."

"I'm not pouting!" Newt protests as they stumble to their feet. Percival chuckles and straightens his coat before waving his hand to vanish the blanket and lantern. He takes his wand out to light the way and can't help but smile when after a few steps Newt's hand finds the way into his.

~

When they reach the castle, Queenie and Tina are waiting for them outside. Their fingers disentangle as they walk up the path and immediately Percival misses the warmth of Newt's touch. Morgana, he's so done for.

"Finally," Tina huffs when they get within hearing distance.

"What did we miss?" Percival asks, trying very hard to reign in his lips, which are attempting to twitch into another wide smile. There's still a warm ball of happiness inside of him.

"Apparently Theseus accosted a guest." Tina looks between exasperated and amused. "I don't know the details, Theseus just sent me a patronus telling us to take Newt home." She looks inquisitively between Newt and Percival, who both pretend to have no idea what is going on.

"Oh. Yes. Well. It is rather late," Percival says, hard-pressed to hide his disappointment. He wants to go back to the forest and be far away from all reality with Newt. Then again the fact that Rodolphus Lestrange is waiting for him in the entrance hall is a good enough reason to postpone things with Newt and satisfy some of that anger still burning in the back of his mind.

"Goodnight, then," Percival says, nodding at the Goldsteins and Newt, trying (and failing miserably) to not let his gaze linger.

"Goodnight," Tina echoes and smiles at him, having linked her arm with Newt's already and pulling him along. He waves at Percival and pulls a face. Queenie lingers a little longer, looking between Newt and Percival before her lips spread into a slow grin. She quickly bridges the distance between them and pulls him into an enthusiastic hug.

"Goodnight, Percival. Sweet dreams," she giggles and turns to run after Tina and Newt. Percival stares after her in mild shock. That woman is a menace, far too perceptive for her own good. With a shake of his head he turns and walks inside, already wondering if there's a way to sneak into the Goldsteins apartment later on without them noticing.

Merlin, he thinks he's in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cue romantic music* 
> 
> Will Percival sneak into the Goldsteins' apartment for a midnight serenade? Will he tell Theseus? And most important of all: What will Pickett say???


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to be all whiny and woe is me, but the past week has been a rather bad one and I've been struggling to keep my depression at bay. All of your lovely comments gave me something good to focus on and made me smile. So, I just want to say that I appreciate each and everyone and that they mean the world to me. Thank you <3

Theseus and Lestrange are standing in opposite corners of the kitchen, Picquery looking like a long-suffering principal between them. The house-elves have all abandoned the place, pots and pans on the floor, broken pieces of crockery scattered around them like the most bizarre sprinkling of fairy dust. 

One look at Lestrange's smirking face and Percival is stalking over, his hands clenched almost as tightly as his jaw. 

" _Director_ Graves." Seraphina’s voice stops Percival dead on his tracks, the emphasis prompting him to recall that he is here as Head of Magical Security, not as a private person. The wave of disappointment is bitter. He would've so loved to break Lestrange's nose and wipe that smug grin off his face. 

"It seems like we're having a bit of a situation here," Seraphina continues, walking up next to Percival, clearly not trusting him to remain professional. 

"Mister Scamander and Mister Lestrange seem to have gotten into a rather…heated argument," Seraphina sighs. 

"He started it," Lestrange is quick to bite out, glaring at Theseus. 

"No, he did," Theseus replies, glaring right back. 

"He attacked me out of no-"

"I don't care!" Percival roars, giving a voice to the dragon in his chest and feeling a vein near his temples throb. 

There's momentary silence, but Rodolphus Lestrange seems to be of the exceptionally self-important sort, who are usually incapable of keeping their mouths shut. His eyes settle on Percival with a dangerous glint. 

“So, you’re Director Graves,” he drawls. “Gellert was right, you are very interesting.” 

Percival isn’t even aware he’s moving, but when he blinks he’s got Lestrange up against the wall by his throat. The man still doesn’t seem phased, smiling pleasantly. 

“Our mutual friend sends his regards,” he murmurs low enough for only Percival to hear. “Very unfortunate, that you had to part on such bad terms. He misses your company.” 

Although he knows that he should keep his calm, that Lestrange is trying to rile him, Percival’s fingers twitch against the man’s throat, pressing in a little tighter. 

“You stay out of this, Mister Scamander,” Percival hears through the thick haze around him, and then there’s a hand on his arm, pulling him back. He’s reluctant to let go off Lestrange, but Seraphina’s grip is like a vice, the warning clear. Taking a step back, Percival tries to calm his heart before it hammers a hole through his chest with the force of its beating. Grindelwald is supposed to be in Azkaban, how has he contacted Lestrange? Or is the man bluffing? Percival can’t tell and all logic fails him because he’s personally involved, far from unbiased. 

“Now. Seeing as nobody was actually harmed in this duel, I’ll let both of you off with a warning.” Seraphina subtly pushes Percival in Theseus’ direction, an unspoken order to calm him and restrain him if necessary. Theseus still looks ready for a fight, leaning forward, body tense and knees slightly bent, a standard stance aurors learn within the first week of training, enabling to attack or deflect quickly. 

“Look at you, following the orders of a woman like obedient dogs,” Lestrange laughs. 

Percival’s fist connects with Lestrange’s jaw and the man tumbles sideways from the force of the punch. 

“You bastard! You’ll-“

“Give me a reason,” Percival hisses, drawing his wand and pressing it against the soft skin of Lestrange’s neck. 

“You’ll pay for-“ 

“Pay for this? No, I don’t think I will,” Percival grins, razor-sharp. “You threatened my President. I’m perfectly entitled to take all measures necessary to protect her.” Leaning in closer, Percival pushes his wand harder against Lestrange’s throat, noting with satisfaction that the man is swallowing repeatedly, throat bobbing. 

“As far as I’m concerned you’ve got two choices right now, Mister Lestrange,” Seraphina says, her dress rustling and swishing as she steps closer. “Either you leave New York immediately and I’ll let you get away with a warning, or, if you’re not willing to do that I’ll have Director Graves lock you up until a jury decides what to do with you.” 

Lestrange narrows his eyes before exhaling sharply through his nose. “Director, if you’d be so kind.” 

Percival allows himself a few seconds to indulge in fantasies of all the things he could do to Lestrange, before stepping back. Lestrange takes his time leaving, brushing off his suit and straightening his cuffs. 

He smiles at them once he’s put on his coat. “I never liked New York anyway. It’s so…filthy.” He turns and marches out of the room, leaving momentary silence behind. 

Seraphina sighs. “Well, that was odios.” She turns her ‘I’m-displeased’ look on them. “I’m going to finish my wine now and dance with my husband. If either of you manages to interrupt my evening again I promise you the consequences are going to be most unpleasant. Report to my office first thing on Monday.” She leaves in a swirl of robes, but not without giving them another glare for good measure. 

“That woman is terrifying,” Theseus mutters, eyes shining with adoration. Percival fleetingly thinks that it’s a good thing Seraphina is married. If her and Theseus had children…no, he doesn’t even want to begin to picture what suffering that’d mean for him. 

“Drink?” Percival asks, spotting a bottle of firewhiskey and grabbing it for them to take outside. The house-elves are probably anxious to return to their kitchen. 

~

The patio is bathed in fairylights and candles hover around the tables, but despite the heating charms none of the other guests have made their way outside, which is just as well. Percival sinks down in one of the chairs, feeling old and tired. In the shadow of Lestrange’s words, all the happiness and light from his evening with Newt have been extinguished in his chest. 

He takes a swig from the whiskey, hoping the burn of the alcohol will take away the sour taste the mere mention of Grindelwald left in his mouth, before handing the bottle over to Theseus, who doesn’t look much better. 

“I want that bastard dead,” Theseus sneers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after taking a healthy swig. 

“I know.” 

“No, no you don’t,” Theseus retorts. “Just because he spat some bull about Grindelwald to get a rise out of you-“ 

“Newt told me,” Percival interrupts, because damn, he’s not going to let Theseus dictate if he’s allowed to feel angry or not. 

“So what?” Theseus slams the bottle of whiskey down on the snow covered table, eyes narrowing. “So what, Percival?” He looks a second away from jumping to his feet and throwing a punch. Percival subtly shifts his position, not going to get caught unaware. Theseus has been responsible for more of Percival’s black eyes and bruises than the criminals he’s been faced with during his years as an auror combined. 

“You know _nothing_ ,” Theseus voice is dangerously low, and it’s worse than screaming would’ve been. “Newt probably told you some watered down version of what happened because that kid is always downplaying everything and taking the blame for others. And even if he did tell you the full story, you still know nothing, because you weren’t there.” The table shakes and energy sparks in the air, making the hairs on Percival’s neck stand up. 

"Theseus." 

"No, you listen to me!" Theseus hisses and Percival’s survival instinct makes him shut up, despite the candle that’s just exploded to their left. 

“You weren’t there, you didn’t see him, didn’t see what he did to him! You didn’t see how fucking terrified he was, bruised and shaking apart! You didn’t have to deal with the aftermath, with the nightmares and the way he withdrew from everyone. You didn’t have to witness how it changed him. You didn’t have to watch your parents struggle because of it. You didn’t have to watch and feel so utterly fucking useless because there is nothing, nothing at all you could’ve done to help. So don’t you fucking tell me that you know, just because you heard a story.”

The silence rings loud in Percival’s ears, broken only by Theseus' harsh drawing in of breath. They stare at each other and it’s difficult to breathe, the tension thick between. Percival's blood is hot with his own anger, but he's got years of experience in reigning in his feelings, allowing logic to trump them. 

"You're right, I apologise.” Percival holds Theseus gaze and a few seconds later Theseus' shoulders drop and he exhales, running a hand through his hair. The tension evaporates from the air and a breeze blows away the last remains of cackling magic.

"Fuck, Percy, I'm sorry." 

"It's all right." Percival nudges the bottle of firewhiskey - which thankfully survived the outburst - towards Theseus. "You're worried about him, I get it. You're right, I wasn't there. But that doesn't mean I can't be angry on his behalf. And on yours." Percival hasn’t got a lot of patience, but anger he’s got in large quantities, there’s plenty to go around. 

Theseus nods jerkily and passes the bottle back to Percival. “I appreciate it. And I _am_ angry on your behalf because that Grindelwald shit was just uncalled for. Arrogant prick, likes throwing names around.” 

There’s too much alcohol in his system for Percival to control his face and his lips twists at the mention of Grindelwald. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore, doesn’t want Grindelwald to keep crawling back out from the hole Percival’s buried him in. He’ll have to discuss Lestrange on Monday with Seraphina, that’ll be early enough to follow the dark paths of his mind.

“So, are you in love with him then?” 

Percival promptly chokes on his own spit. 

“What? Lestrange?” Even for Theseus that’s taking it a little far.

“No, of course not Lestrange.” Theseus groans, like Percival is being particularly difficult. 

Now that’s just rich. Percival’s anger comes right back bubbling up. 

“If you’re seriously suggesting that I have developed some weird thing for Grindelwald, I swear to Merlin I’ll-“ 

“I’m talking about Newt!” Theseus snaps and Percival’s anger is doused with a bucket of ice water. He’s aware that his mouth is still open, but his mind is blank and he can’t remember how to form words at all. 

“What?” He eventually manages to get out, hating how hoarse his voice sounds. 

“I’m not stupid, you know?” Theseus rolls his eyes. “Nor is my brother very subtle in his pining. 'Did you know that in the original stories of King Arthur it was Percival who found the holy grail, not Galahad?'" Theseus pitches his voice a little higher in what is supposedly meant to be an imitation of Newt. “’Percival got Dougal to go to sleep. Percival was really interested in the chapter about unicorns I’ve been working on. Percival really likes my niffler.’ The niffler, yeah, right. If that’s what the kids call it these days.” 

"What?" Percival repeats, because his brain is still trying to catch up and he’s quite possibly panicking a little bit. 

"Coming to think of it, you're not very subtle either. Or perceptive. For someone who's Head of Magical Security you are phenomenally dense sometimes, Percy." Theseus muses, shaking his head sadly and enjoying himself way too much.

Percival stares. Newt has been _pining_ for him? Surely Theseus is taking the piss? But despite the humour in his eyes, there's something else, something more dangerous beneath the humour as he watches Percival. 

"So?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. For the first time Percival understands why Theseus is feared far and wide as an interrogator. He shifts under Theseus' gaze, palms sweaty. 

"I'm very fond of him," Percival replies evenly, attempting to stay on safe ground. Judging by the way Theseus leans forward it was the wrong thing to say. 

"Very fond? Nothing more? I'm very fond of chocolate chip biscuits." 

Percival groans. "Come on, Zeus, don't be difficult.”

“More than fond then?” Theseus prompts.

“Much more,” Percival admits, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Theseus leans back in his chair with a smug smile. “All right then.” 

"Are you going to give me the shovel talk now?" Percival sighs, trying to hide the fact that his heart is still beating wildly in his chest, because he’s in love with Newt Scamander. 

"Nah," Theseus shakes his head. "I much prefer my victims to be unsuspecting,” he grins, but sobers quickly. "Honestly though, Percy. You've been my best mate for years. I trust you with my life. And.. I trust you with Newt." 

It’s the alcohol, it must be, because Percival doesn’t usually feel this…emotional. He clears his throat, trying to get rid of that sentimental feeling. “Thank you.”

"I am stung though that you didn't come to me first," Theseus sighs theatrically. "Honestly, one would expect better manners from a man such as yourself. Shamelessly going off with my brother without asking my permission first." 

"There we go," Percival groans. "You're going to hold this over my head until the end of my days, aren't you?" 

Theseus grin is answer enough. 

~

It's four in the morning when Percival finally stumbles into his house, drunk with exhaustion and firewhiskey. He's relieved that Theseus has more or less given his blessings, worried about Lestrange, upset about Grindelwald, and disappointed that he didn't get to sneak into the Goldstein's apartment and see Newt. 

He falls into bed and despite his aching body Percival suddenly feels wide awake, staring up at the ceiling. His best efforts aren't enough to keep the mental downward spiral at bay. By the time the sun comes up he has convinced himself that Newt deserves someone better and that he, Percival, is damaged beyond repair. Maybe he should resign. Some people are still wary and suspicious around him. Maybe he should go away, start again somewhere else. Maybe he should buy a potion on the black market to take all his memories away. He wouldn't have to remember then, wouldn't have to twitch every time the house creaked, phantom pains blossoming all over his body. 

~

Percival uses his weekends to catch up on correspondence, finish up paperwork, owl his family, and - depending on how much paperwork there is to finish from the week - sit in front of his fireplace with a tumbler of whiskey and a good book. Occasionally, if the weather is nice, he goes for a walk. 

Today, Percival is still slumped on the couch as the clock in the corner chimes 11, sipping his coffee and nursing a pounding headache. It’s a sad reminder that he’s not as young as he used to be, the hangovers far more vicious than they used to be. To top it off Grindelwald, the wretched bastard, emptied out his potions cabinet. Clearly he wasn’t satisfied with ruining Percival’s mind and body, no. He had to leave little annoyance behind for Percival to find because Merlin forbid that Percival gets a single day where he isn’t reminded of what happened. 

The knock on the door translates to a violent pounding in Percival’s head and he groans and hunches over, trying to make it go away. Then he remembers the express owl order for hangover potion he managed to sent out this morning. Maybe there’s some No-Maj alert again, and they’ve sent a delivery boy around instead of an owl.

Hope and the promise of salvation are the catalysts for Percival to finally push himself up from the couch and stumble to the door, ignorant of the fact that he’s still in his dressing gown. Wrenching the door open Percival winces and squints against the bright light. 

“H-hello. Is…is this a bad time?” 

Percival squints harder and tries to get his brain to work because this, somehow, seems important. His eyes adjust to the light and Newt swims into focus, making Percival acutely aware of the state he’s in. He wouldn’t have minded so much if a delivery boy saw him like this, with his hair a mess, face unshaven, eyes puffy and dressing gown hanging half-open. But Newt? Newt makes him want to slam the door and sort himself out. 

Newt looks more insecure with each second that ticks by, shuffling his feet and hunching his shoulders. Percival can barely stand it, but they’re out in the open and all his doubts and fears come back, made worse by his hangover. 

“No, no of course not. Come in,” he steps aside and closes the door behind Newt gently, only wincing a little. Fuck. When he turns around he finds Newt standing much closer than expected, looking at him intently. Now Percival really, really regrets opening the door like this and subtly tries to straighten out his dressing gown. 

“You look worse than Theseus does,” Newt finally concludes with a grin that makes his cheeks dimple. 

“Don’t tell him that, he won’t let me live it down. Ever,” Percival groans. 

“An owl was outside when I arrived.” Newt holds out a small green vial and Percival’s knees nearly give out with relief. 

“Thank Merlin and Morgana,” he breathes and takes the vial, fumbling to get the cork out and throwing back the liquid like his life depends on it. It tastes like sweaty feet, but five seconds later he feels the pressure in his head easing and the tightness in his scalp relaxing. 

“Better?” Newt asks. “You could’ve just owled me, or, or Tina, you know? Weekend owl orders are ridiculously overpriced. At least they are in England, of course I don’t know about here, but-“ 

“Newt, it’s fine,” Percival stops the monologue before it can start. 

“Oh, yes, of course,” Newt flushes slightly before fumbling and pulling something from the pocket of his coat. “I just came by because it appears that my niffler stole your pocket watch again. I found it in his nest this morning.” 

Percival blinks at his watch, wondering when exactly the niffler had a chance to pinch it. He could swear he still had it at the ball yesterday. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles and reaches out for the watch, desperately trying to ignore the way his body floods with warmth when his hand brushes against Newt’s. “Look, Newt, I’ve been thinking and-“ 

Percival is cut off by Newt’s lips against his own, cold and shy and determined all the same. All of Percival’s carefully rehearsed reasons go flying out the window as the world narrows down to the man in front of him, this wonderful man who brings so much light into his life. Dropping the pocket watch , Percival’s hands find their place on Newt’s hips, like they’ve always belonged there, and he pulls him closer. Newt’s hand settle more tentatively on his chest, but his lips twitch into a smile against Percival’s. 

“What was that for?” Percival mumbles when they pull back, blinking his eyes open slowly. 

“You were about to say something stupid,” Newt huffs, looking down and sideways, cheeks flushed like he can’t believe his own actions. 

“If that’s your solution to it, maybe I should say stupid things more often,” Percival chuckles, glad when Newt’s eyes flick up and he smiles. 

“You do say plenty of silly things, you know?” 

“Oh, look at that, you’ve got a mouth on you.” It’s a glimpse thee part of himself Newt keeps guarded, and Percival feels incredibly lucky to be allowed to see it. 

“As it is, I was about to say that I’m not good enough for you,” Percival sighs, leaning back a little further because having Newt’s lips so close to his own makes him incapable of thinking. “I’m…very messed up and I’m not sure-“ 

Percival is cut off by another kiss. Damnit, he can see this becoming a problem in the future. 

“I’m very messed up too, in case you didn’t notice,” Newt mumbles, a little breathless, when he pulls back. Percival is about to reply, only to be faced with, what he assumes, is Newt’s version of a glare. 

“Besides, you’re not messed up.”

“I am, darling, very much so.” 

“So what? Then we can be messed up together and maybe that’ll make us a little less messed up,” Newt huffs. 

The truth is, when faced with Newt, all of Percival’s carefully constructed walls, all his logic and sense of duty crumble. He’s selfish, he can’t help it, he wants Newt, wants to be with him every moment of every day and learn all there is to learn about him. He wants to know what makes him smile, wants to comfort him when he’s sad, wants to witness his excitement upon discovering a new thing about his creatures. He _wants_ like he’s never wanted before and he can’t deny himself this. 

This time it’s Percival who leans in to press a soft kiss to Newt’s lips, who’s trembling slightly in his arms, like his nerves are catching up with him. 

“Would you like some tea?” 

Newt nods and Percival makes a mental note to buy the biscuits Newt likes so much for when he comes over again. A second later he mentally rolls his eyes. Way to get ahead of himself. 

With his hangover effectively gone Percival trusts himself to prepare the tea with magic, floating the cup over to the coffee table. Newt has taken off his coat and followed Percival into the living room, looking around with interest. 

“I’ve been thinking about moving,” Percival blurts out, feeling like he needs to make excuses for his house. It’s nowhere near as comfortable or homey as Newt’s little hut in the suitcase. 

“Why? It’s nice.” Newt replies. Percival refills his coffee and sits down on the couch, content to watch Newt studying the books on the shelf, running his fingers down their spines, pulling one or two out to study them more closely. 

“It’s…not been the same. His presence is like oil, clinging to everything here.” 

Newt nods and turns to face Percival, regarding him very seriously. “I could build you a habitat, if you’d like?” 

Percival blinks before he bursts out laughing. “You’re something else, aren’t you?” 

Newt flushes but looks pleased with himself, moving over and sitting down next to Percival, close enough for their knees to touch. 

“So tell me, what would my habitat look like?” Percival asks, relaxing against the back of the couch and leaning a little more into Newt’s side. 

“Well, I’m thinking a nice, sunny room, hardwood floors and a fireplace. A large, desk of course, and plenty of space for books.” 

Percival closes his eyes and listens to Newt describe his habitat in great detail, which a little worrying. Has he thought about this before? Either way, it’s soothing and Percival hums in agreement here and there. The winter sun is streaming in through the windows, warming his face, and Percival feels content in a way he’s never been before. 

~

They spend the day on the couch, Percival telling him about his family and his childhood and listening with interest when Newt talks about his creatures, asking about where he found them and what spells he used to expand his suitcase. They drink tea and coffee and they kiss. A lot. Newt decides that it’s the best way to spend a day. Percival is gentle and doesn’t make demands, just letting Newt be and do things in his own time. He makes Newt feel save and appreciated and…loved, and it’s the warmest, most comforting feeling Newt has ever felt. 

When his stomach rumbles Percival makes them dinner, a pasta bake that parallels even Queenie’s cooking skills. By the time they’re done eating it’s getting dark outside. Newt thinks that maybe he should leave, not wanting to overstay his welcome. 

“There’s always a play on the wireless this time on Saturday. Would you…like to stay for it?” Percival asks and the knot in Newt’s stomach eases. 

They settle back down on the couch, Percival pulling Newt into his arms. 

“Comfortable?” It sounds like a rumble, Percival’s chest moving under Newt’s head, and he nods. 

“Yes.” There’s no place in the world he’d rather be right now. Percival’s chest moves gently under his chest, rising and falling with his breath, and his fingers card through Newt’s hair, twisting around the strands. When the movement stops Newt turns his head to look up and finds that Percival has fallen asleep. 

Sitting up a little more Newt takes his time to unabashedly study him. Percival had changed into a pair of black trousers and a loose, white shirt earlier, but his hair is still messy. Pushing a few strands away from his forehead Newt smiles, thinking that it suits him. He looks relaxed like this, content, and Newt lies back down, closing his own eyes. He trusts Theseus to look after his creatures for tonight. 

~

“Pickett, we talked about this,” Newt sighs. “You know Percival. You _like_ Percival. He brought you cookies last time he visited, remember?” 

Pickett keeps his leafy arms firmly crossed in front of his body, not impressed by Newt’s words. He keeps glaring in Percival’s direction, making him feel more awkward by the second. He feels more judged by a _bowtruckle_ then he did by the Goldsteins upstairs. Not even Theseus’ inappropriate comments were as bad as this. It’s the first time Percival is staying overnight with Newt, his old house already packed up and their new one not ready to be moved into until next Friday. Percival would rather not sleep in the Goldstein’s guestroom, Queenie too close for comfort and the entire setup just…wrong. He can’t share a bed with Newt in the apartment of one of his employees. So they’ve decided to spend the night in the suitcase because although still technically in the apartment, it’s…different. 

Pickett rustles his leaves before he clambers down from the counter and runs at Percival with amazing speed for such a tiny creature. Percival is proud to say that he doesn’t flinch and stands his ground. Picket clambers up his trouser leg and latches onto Percival’s thumb. Lifting his hand up to eye level, Picket moves to Percival’s palm and glares, before beginning to chitter loudly, jabbing his arms in Percival’s direction. It goes on for a while and Percival has to press his lips together to keep from laughing as Pickett gets more and more agitated. It seems he’s getting the shovel talk after all. 

“Yes, I understand,” he nods solemnly when the tirade winds down. Pickett’s face has turned dark green, which Percival supposes is the equivalent to humans turning red. “I swear I’ll take good care of Newt.” 

Pickett looks at him sceptically for a few seconds before nodding, apparently giving his blessings. For now. Newt scoops the little bowtruckle up, giving Percival an amused smile, before carrying him outside. “Look, Pickett, I moved the tree to right outside the door. I’ll come pick you up first thing in the morning, all right? Now you’ll be good. Yes, yes I will. Good night, Pickett.” 

Newt returns and closes the door of the hut, leaning against it with a sigh. “Well. I suppose that went smoother than expected.” 

“He’s worried about you. I can appreciate that,” Percival smiles, walking over and pulling Newt into his arms. 

“He’s also a little melodramatic.” 

“And stubborn.” 

“Are we talking about Pickett or my brother?” Newt smiles and Percival leans in to kiss that smile, just because he can. 

~

_Epilogue_

“Uncle Percyyyy.” 

A warm, sticky hand pats Percival’s cheek and he grumbles, turning his face away. The patting gets more insistent. 

“Uncle Percy, you promised we’d go see the baby graphorn today.” 

“Not at four o’clock in the morning, Alice,” Percival groans. He blindly reaches out in the dark and pulls the little body down onto the bed, tucking her in next to him (he’s infinitely grateful they’ve worn pyjamas to bed. Theseus barging in on them a few years ago has scarred both of them for life). Newt huffs in his sleep and tightens his arm around Percival’s chest.

“But-“ 

“The baby graphorn is asleep now too,” Percival mumbles. There’s silence as Alice contemplates this, before she nods and curls into Percival’s chest. 

“Can I stay here, please?” She whispers and Percival nods. 

“Of course, darling,” he yawns and brushes his hand over her head. He makes sure the blanket is pulled up over her so she won’t get cold and within minutes she’s fast asleep again, snuffling and kicking her legs a little as she dreams. 

Percival closes his eyes and gets comfortable again, briefly amused about the fact that he doesn’t find this situation strange. A few years ago he would’ve laughed at anyone telling him he’d be calming little children back to sleep. Newt has made him a better person, cast out the shadows Percival hadn’t even known were clouding his mind. They’ve built a life together, laughing and fighting and making up, making each other better. Their house is comfortable and lived in, cluttered with Newt’s belongings and Percival’s books. Newt still travels and Percival takes holidays (the look on Seraphina’s face when he had first requested time off had been hilarious) to follow him, and they spend Christmas in England with Newt’s parents, Theseus and his wife Alexa and their children, Alice and Colin, and Easter at Graves Manor with Percival’s family. It’s utterly domestic and Percival wouldn’t change it for the world. 

Behind him Newt mumbles something in his sleep and he smiles. 

Percival never grew up wanting to be a knight or believing in fairy tales, but Newt makes him believe in happy endings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cue more romantic music and Newt and Percival riding off into the sunset* 
> 
> *exhales* I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, thank you all for reading and encouraging me to keep on writing <3 You are the best! 
> 
> (And a little of a selfish note: I have ideas for a few oneshots set in this universe, and for a modern!AU. Though...are modern!AUs even interesting or better stray in the realm of Wizarding New York?  
> Also, I'm in desperate need of a beta, my writing is rusty and I feel like my English needs help. If anyone is interested or knows of anyone who might be up for the job, please let me know? :) )


End file.
